'' ,o'^ 



.vV- 






,-^' 



•s^ 






^"^ -v. 






.^^ 



-N 









•> 4^, 



V' 



">•, ,^-' 



-u 






f^' % 



■y \ 



■^, 



?► V, 



% 


/ 


^^ 


->- 


' 


s 



.0^ 









-^^ 



> ^'■^■W^ ' 






'.-b'^ 



,> 



\/ 



V.s^ 



.^ 









^^ 



^^" 






<'^ 


^ I 


' « . <? 



^ 



.^^ 









^^ ' 















\- 






.rO' 



v^ 



<<^ 



-p^ 



<>. 



.0 









,-^" 









'V^ 






^ 





REMINISCENCES 



/ .- ^j 



1'^ 



/; / ,• .t- 



OF A 



NONAGENARIAN 



EDITED AND ILLUSTRATED 



^ 



./■: 1. 



By SARAH AISTNA EMERY 



AUTHOR OF " THREE GENERATIONS." 



J]/ 




gwAsm*^^ 



NEWBURYPORT : 

WILLIAM H. HUSE & CO., PRINTERS, 42 STATE STREET. 

1879. 






\ 



PREFACE. 



This volume, as its title implies, has been chiefly derived from the recollections of my 
mother; but recitals by my father, grandparents and other deceased relatives and friends 
have aided the work, and I have obtained many anecdotes and facts from several aged per- 
sons still living. My thanks are due to others less advanced in life, especially to J. H. Ham- 
lin, esq., of Portland, Maine, for details respecting the Poyen family, and for the description 
of their ancestral home in Gaudaloupe; to Miss Eebecca Ingersoll Davis of East Haver- 
hill, for others relating to the Countess De Vipart; to Mr. Lyman Cole of Newburyport, for 
his family history; to George Edwin Emery of Lynn, Mass., for facts respecting our ances- 
tors, and their home in England, and for the history of the name of Emery; also to Thomas 
C. Amory, esq., of Boston, for Amory records; to James Chute Peabody, esq., for valua- 
ble information. I am indebted to the " Genealogy of the Little Family," compiled 
by George T. Little; to that of Hale by Robert S. Hale, LL.D. ; to Edmund Smith,- 
esq., for the " Heraldry of Smith, London, John Russell Smith, 36 Soho square, 1870;" to 
Benjamin Hale, esq., and other persons and families who have kindly loaned genealogies 
and ancient documents. I have received assistance from the Histories of Newbury and New- 
buryport by Joshua Coffin, esq., and Mrs. E. Vale Smith; and Johnston's History of the 
Campaign on Long Island in 1776; from the Record of Schools, by Mr. O. B. Merrill^ 
published by the "Antiquarian and Historical Society" of Old Newbury; Gage's History of 
Rowley and Genealogical Register, 1869. In the family records I have aimed at an arrange- 
ment that will enable the descendants of the present generation to trace their lineage, and I 
have endeavored to note those born within the limits of Newbury and Newburyport, who 
have been college graduates, or have otherwise become distinguished. 

My desire has been to give a graphic history of " Ye Olden Time" ; to faithfully portray 
the domestic, religious, political, literary and social life of a past age, with a description of 
"Ould Newberry," and of the business and aspect of Newburyport prior to the great lire of 
1811. The ancient town has been rich in matters of world-wide interest and historic value. 

About 1650, at the Dummer, now Glen Mills, was set up the first cloth mill in America. 
In the Byfield parish was the first woolen and cotton factory in Massachusetts, and there the 
first broadcloth manufactured in the country was made. There, Perkins the inventor of the 
plate for engraving bank notes, set up the first nail factory. In the same parish, in 1680, at 
the head of tide-water on the river Parker, the first vessel was built in New England. Later, 
the first academy was founded by Gov. Dummer, and still later, the first incorporated rifle 
company was formed. In the West Precinct, now West Newbury, the first horn combs and 
buttons were manufactured by Mr. Enoch Noyes. In Newburyport Master Pike published 
the first Arithmetic, and the stalwart ship carpenter, Eleazer Johnson, bui'ned the first tea 
in ante-revolutionary times, previous to its destruction in Boston, His son Nicholas, com- 
manding a Newburyport ship, the " Count de Grass,e" was the first to display the Stars and 
Stripes on the river Thames. Newburyport has also the honor of having founded the first 
Sunday and female high schools in Massachusetts, That the book may satisfy the expectations 
of relatives and friends, and prove a source of instruction and interest to the public generally, 
is the sincere wish of 

SARAH ANNA EMERY, 
Newburyport, 1879, 



f 




MINISCENCES OF jl 





CHAPTER I. 



Ninety years is a long period to re- 
view. The world of to-day is an en- 
tirely different thing from that of my 
earliest recollection. How vividly I 
recall the old homestead — the large 
brown house, built in 1707, with its 
wide, sloping back roof, and many sized 
and shaped windows ; the long barn 
and other farm buildings in the rear ; 
the well, with its graceful sweep in 
front, and the usually huge wood pile 
at the back. Before the house stretched 
a large garden, well stocked with pear, 
peach and cherry trees. Currant and 
gooseberr}' bushes grew luxuriantl}' be- 
neath the sheltering board fence, that 
separated the enclosure from the broad 
fields and orchards around. There was 
a clump of quince bushes in one corner, 
and in another two Plum Island plum 
bushes, that had grown from stones 
taken from fruit brought from the isl- 
and. There was also a great variet}' 
of medicinal and sweet herbs, and from 
early spring till late in autumn the bor- 
ders on either side of the gravel walk 
were gay with flowers. These flowers 
were one of the greatest delights of 
my childhood. How distinctly I re- 



member every shrul) and Imsh, and the 
pleasure I received in dispensing m}' 
treasures amongst my less favored 
neighbors, who often can ^ to beg a 
rose, a bunch of pinks, or me spear- 
mint or lavender "to tak^ « •^^f^etin' 
to keep 'em awake Sabba' day. 

Crossing the broad, unhewn a r- 
stoue and ()i)ening the wide front door, 
you saw a narrow entry with a flight of 
winding stairs at the back. As you 
stepped across the threshold your feet 
fell upon a trap door in the floor. 
Through this cavity passed all the farm 
produce that was annually stored in the 
cellar. Carts filled with potatoes, tur- 
nips, etc., were backed up to the door 
and their contents chuted into the sub- 
terranean regions below, while from the 
iron stanchion in the unplastered ceil- 
ing overhead was lowered, by rope and 
pulleys, barrel after barrel of apples 
and cider. The house was constructed 
in the style common to the period, 
two spacious rooms on either side of 
the front entry, with wide firejilaces, and 
low ceilings crossed in the centre b}^ a 
broad beam. The two front windows 
in both rooms were long and narrow ; 



6 



KEMmrscEisrcEs 



the one in the end was square. Open- 
ing from these apartments were the 
summer kitchen, bed-rooms and the 
dairy. The fireplaces, both below and 
in the chambers, showed an attempt at 
architectural ornament, in the high 
mantel pieces. Those in the two front 
rooms were both furnished with a large 
oven in a corner to the right, and a 
smaller one in that opposite. These 
were closed b}' brightly-painted red 
oven lids ; and in the right-hand cor- 
ner stood a long, low form, for the ac- 
commodation of the smaller members 
of the household. There were long 
dressers, also, showing some effort at 
elegance in the carving of the shelves, 
which were loaded with pewter ware, as 
bright as silver, and a corner cupboard, 
in the country phraseology termed a 
"beaufat," which displayed rare treas- 
ures of China, glass and silver. 

M}" father and motlier, recently mar- 
ried, occupied one half of the house ; 
my widowed grandmother, with anoth- 
er sou and daughter, resided in the 
other half. Young people, their for- 
tune still to be made, my parents' 
rooms were plainly furnished, with com- 
mon tables and flag-bottomed chairs. 
A high case of drawers was the chief 
ornament to the best bedroom, the oth- 
ers boasting of only a chest of drawers. 
These were about the height of a bu- 
reau, with a chest atop and one or two 
drawers beheath. The square, high- 
post bedsteads were tastily hung with 
muslin and chintz curtains, and cov- 
ered with the prettiest of coverlids, 
woven in love-knots and other daint}- 
patterns, or with quilts stiff with the 
most elaborate quilting. Grandmoth- 
er's rooms were much more elegant. 
While my mother, the oldest of nine 
children, was provided with a common 



fitting out, my grandmother, the lieu-ess 
to quite a fortune, had received an out- 
fit that, at the time of her marriage, 
had been the chief topic for tea-table 
talk throughout the country-side. The 
bridal trousseau and the best furniture 
had been imported from England ex- 
pressly for her, b}' indulgent and some- 
what aristocratic parents. The green 
damask dress, and brown camblet cir- 
cular cloak and riding hood, with the 
high-heeled brocade slippers, were, at 
the time of which I am speaking, still 
as fresh as new, and a peep at them 
was a rare treat which was sometimes 
vouchsafed when I was especially good. 
Grandmother's front room had bow- 
backed chairs with flag seats, and ta- 
bles supported by curiously-carved and 
twisted legs, a candle stand that screwed 
up and down like a piano stool, a hand- 
some mirror, and the buffet was re- 
splendent in its ni)})ointments. Her 
best bed was hung with green moreen 
curtains, edged by heavy gimp trim- 
ming ; the case of drawers was decor- 
ated with fluted drawers in the upper 
tier, and surmounted by ornaments of 
carving. There was a handsome dress- 
ing table, a fine specimen of the sculp- 
tured frames of the period, with sever- 
al drawers and compartments. Over 
this hung a glass, tlie plate surrounded 
by an ornamental wreath, and a frame 
of colored glass, set in mahogany 
moulding. The back chamber — the 
large one under the long, sloping back 
roof — was set apart for manufacturing 
piirposes. Here the chief part of the 
clothing and other household goods for 
the family were spun and woven. The 
apartment was convenieutlj' fitted up 
with looms, woolen, linen and spooling 
wheels, swifts, reels, cards and warp- 
ing bars. Here, also, stood the great 



OF A NONAGENAETAIN'. 



grain chest, well stored with wheat, 
rye, oats and barley. Onr farm was 
well adapted to the growth of wheat. 
My father raised enough to suppty his 
famil}', and had a surplus for the mar- 
ket. The large garret, besides being 
the receptacle for all the odds and ends 
of housekeeping, was annually filled 
with Indian corn, a corn Inirn being a 
later addition to the premises. 



CHAPTER II. 

M}^ parents had married young. 
Their chief capital for commencing life 
was youth, liealth and nmtual love. 
My grandfather's decease dated a few 
years prior to his son's marriage, and 
the large farm, with the exception of 
the widow's dower, had been divided 
between the five sons. At this time 
my father had purchased one of these 
shares, and he was making strenuous 
exertions to secure the rest of the pa- 
ternal acres. Industry and economy 
were the watchwords of the household : 
still, there was no overtasking nor 
stint. 

In those summer da3's, when my rec- 
ollection first opens, mother and Aunt 
Sarah rose in the early dawn, and, tak- 
ing the well-scoured wooden pails from 
the bench by the back door, repaired 
to the cow yard behind the barn . We 
owned six cows ; my grandmother four. 
Having milked the ten cows, the milk 
was strained, the fires built, and break- 
fast .prepared. Many families had milk 
for this meal, but we always had coftee 
or chocolate, with meat and potatoes. 
During breakfast the milk for the cheese 



was warming over the fire, in the large 
brass kettle. The millv being from the 
ten cows, ni}' mother made cheese four 
days, Aunt Sarah having the milk the 
remainder of the week. In this way 
good-sized cheeses were obtained. The 
curd having been broken into the bas- 
ket, the dishes were washed, and, un- 
less there was washing or other extra 
work, the house was righted. Bj' the 
time this was done the curd was ready 
for the press. Next came preparations 
for dinner, which was on the table 
punctually at twelve o'clock. In the 
hot weather we usually had boiled salt- 
ed meat and vegetables, and, if it was 
baking da}^, a custard or pudding. If 
there was linen whitening on the grass, 
as was usual at this season, that must 
be sprinkled. After dinner the cheeses 
were turned and rubbed ; then mother 
put me on a clean frock, and dressed 
herself for the afternoon. Our gowns 
and aprons, unless upon some special 
occasion, when calico was worn, were 
usually of blue checked home-made 
gingham, starched and ironed to a nice 
gloss. 

In the sultry August afternoons 
mother and Aunt Sarah usually took 
their sewing to the cool back room, 
whose shaded door and windows over- 
looked the freshly-mown field, dotted 
by apple trees. Be^'ond the mossy 
stone wall stood the homestead of Un- 
cle Samuel Thurlow (at that time this 
name was pronounced Thurrell), our 
next neighbor. Other buildings came 
to view, interspersed with hill and 
meadow, forest and orcharding. The 
line of brown houses — \evy few were 
at that time painted — marked the po- 
sition of the main road. Across rose 
the square meeting-house, crowning the 
high, precipitous hill upon which it was 



8 



KEMINISCENOES 



perched. Farther on, the spires of the 
distant seaport town glittered in the 
afternoon light, which fell in brilhant 
beams npon the sands of the beaches 
and Plum Island, and whitened the 
sails of vessels far awa}' upon the blue 
sea, whose line blended, ahnost imper- 
ceptibly, with the tints of the sky in 
the eastern horizon. 

My grandmother, after her afternoon 
nap, usually joined her daughters, with 
a pretence at knitting, but she was not 
an industrioiis old lady. There was no 
necessity for work ; and if idle hours 
are a sin, I fear the good woman had 
nnich to answer for. Leaning back in 
her easy-chair, she beguiled the time 
with watching the splendid prospect, 
with its ever- varying lights and shades, 
or joined in the harmless gossip of 
some neighboring woman, who had run 
in with her sewing, for an hour's chat. 

At five o'clock the men came from 
the field, and tea was served. The tea 
things washed, the vegetables were 
gathered for the morrow, the linen tak- 
en in, and other chores done. At sun- 
set the cows came from the pasture. 
Milking finished and the milk strained, 
the day's labor was ended. The last 
load pitched on the hay mow, and the 
last hay cock turned up, my father and 
the hired man joined us in the cool 
back room, where bowls of bread and 
milk were ready for those who wished 
the refreshment. At nine o'clock the 
house was still, the tired hands gladl}^ 
resting from the day's toil. Except 
during the busiest of the hay season, 
my father went regularly once a week 
to the neighboring seaport town, taking 
thither a load of farm produce. For 
years he supplied several families and 
stores with butter, cheese, eggs, fruit 
and vegetables. These market da3's 



were joyful epochs for me, as at his re- 
turn I never failed to receive some lit- 
tle gift, usually sent by some of our 
"Port" relatives and friends. 

Butter making commenced in Sep- 
tember ; only ' ' two meal cheese " were 
made, that is, one milking of new milk 
and one of skimmed to the cheese, the 
cream of one milking going to the bat- 
ter. The weaving of woolen cioth was 
begun, in order that it should be re- 
turned from the mill where it was fulled, 
colored and pressed in time to be made 
up before Thanksgiving. This mill 
was in Byfield, at the Falls, on the 
site of the present mill, and was owned 
and run bj" Mr. Benjamin Pearson. 
The winter's stocking yarn was also 
carded and spun, and the lengthening 
evenings began to be enlivened by the 
bus}' click of knitting needles. As 
Thanksgiving approached, the hurry 
both in doors and out increased. 

With awe I would tiptoe to the edge 
of the open trap door which I had 
been strictly enjoined not to approach, 
to peep at the things which had been 
carried into the cellar ; then I would 
patiently toil after perspiring Uncle 
Burrill, m}' favorite amongst the hired 
men, as he wearily bore basket after 
basket full of the long, golden ears of 
Indian corn into the large garret, which 
to my childish vision appeared so very 
vast and mysterious. 

While of an evening the males of the 
family were busy husking on the barn 
floor, by the hght of the hunter's moon, 
the females were equally engaged 
around the sparkling fire, which the 
chill}' evenings rendered gi-ateful, peel- 
ing apples, pears and quinces, for 
cider apple-sauce and preserves. 

After the cloth had been brought 
from the mill, tailor Thurrell from the 



OF A NOKAGENARIAN". 



9 



Falls village appeared, goose in hand, 
remaining several days, to fasliion ui}' 
father's and uncle's coats and breeches. 
Mother, a manteau-maker before her 
marriage, had her hands more than full, 
as she was not only called upon to 
make the gowns for our family, but to 
fit the dresses for her own mother and 
sisters and others in the vicinity. As 
the cold increased the cheese were car- 
ried to the cellar, and the cheese room 
was scoured. The week before Thanks- 
giving the ox which had been stalled 
for the occasion, was killed. Part of 
the beef was salted, the remainder put 
in a cool place, and us soon as the 
weather was sufficiently cold it was 
frozen, in order to preserve it fresh 
through the winter. The house was 
banked up ; everything without and 
within made tight and trim, to defy as 
much as possible the approach of old 
Boreas. 

Thanksgiving brought a social sea- 
son. There was much visiting and dis- 
tribution of good cheer for a week 
or two after that holiday. Towards 
Christmas the fat hogs were killed, 
the pork salted, the hams hung in the 
wide chimney to cure, and the sau- 
sages made. The women began to 
comb flax and spin linen thread ; the 
men went daily to cut and haul the year's 
firewood. We were too good Puritan § 
to make much account of Christmas, 
though sometimes the 3'Oung people at 
the main road got up a ball on Christ- 
mas eve, but at New Year, there was a 
general interchange of good wishes, 
\\'itli gifts and festivity. 

As soon as the spring weather would 
permit weaving without a fire, the 
looms in the back chamber were set in 
motion, weaving the next season's lin- 
en. Next came candle-dipping, the 

2 



making of soap, and house cleaning. 
The calves had been sold, churning 
commenced, and butter was made until 
the warmer weather brought the sum- 
mer routiaie. 



CHAPTER III. 

Thanksgiving day I accompanied my 
parents to my Grandfather Little's. A 
visit to my mother's maiden home was 
at all times one of my highest pleasures. 
My grandmother, a daughter of the first 
pastor of the upper parish, the Rev. 
William Johnson, was one of those 
rare women whom every one, old and 
3'oung, rich and poor, loved and re- 
vered. A minister's daughter, and 
highly educated for those days, the 
wisdom of my grandfather's choice as 
regarded his worldly success, had been 
a subject of doubt throughout the fam- 
ily. His thrifty sisters all declared 
that ' ' Brother Jose could never get 
ahead with a wife so genteel as to wash 
her hearth every day, have a border of 
posies afore her front door to tend, be- 
sides ruffles on her leetle gal's sleeves 
to iron." Notwithstanding these dire 
prognostications, Brother Jose had 
reared a large family in comfort and 
some elegance. The house was similar 
to ours, the parlor furnished in much 
the same style as my Grandmother 
Smith's, with the addition of a prett}^ 
carpet of home construction in the 
centre of the floor. The arm chairs 
were also decorated with wrought cush- 
ion covers, and a pair of worked hold- 
ers hung on either side of the fireplace, 
these ornaments being the handiwork 
of deft Mollie Johnson before her mar- 



10 



BEMES^ISCEN^CES 



riage. At this time oul}' two daugh- 
ters had left the paternal roof tree. 
Three sons and four daughters, with 
two or three apprentices, (nw grand- 
father carried on shoe business in addi- 
to his farming), made a large, but 
pleasant and orderly household. 

Father and mother, grandsir, grand- 
ma'am and Uncle Bill went to meeting. 
Aunt Bets}' and Aunt Judy remained 
at home, ostensibly to get the dinner, 
but they were so busy preparing for a 
party to which they had been invited 
for the evening that most of the cook- 
ing fell upon the younger, but more 
quiet and staid. Aunt Sukey. Rolick- 
iug Aunt Hannah, a girl of eight or 
nine, ran hither and thither, poking fun 
and helping everj'bod}'. Seizing the 
broom, she drew the freshly-strewn 
sand on the kitchen floor into a remark- 
able combination of zig-zags. Next 
she fell to basting the turkey, roast- 
ing on a spit, w^hich rested on brackets 
on the tall iron andirons, flourish- 
ing the long-handled butter ladle in 
such a manner as to call forth the an- 
imadversions of Aunt Sukey, who de- 
clared that she would have the drip- 
pings, which fell into a pan beneath, 
" all over her clean hearth." 

Uncle Ben, a lad of twelve, brought 
wood and did other chores, meanwhile 
playing so many practical jokes on his 
gay elder sisters that they laughingh' 
threatened to turn him out of the 
house. Rol3--Poly Uncle Joe, onl}' 
three years my senior, sat beside me on 
the form in the corner, where, with 
great glee, we watched the proceedings 
of our elders. The merr}' forenoon 
glided awa}'. The hands of the tall 
clock in the corner of the room pointed 
to twelve. Aunt Hannah set the table 
with the best napery and ware, the 



pickles and apple-sauce were brought, 
the cider drawn, and the chafing dish 
filled, ready to put on the table to keep 
the gravy hot. How long those expect- 
ant moments seemed I Uncle Joe and I 
ensconced ourselves at the window, 
while Aunt Hannah zealousl}' basted 
the turke}', with- the wish that Parson 
Toppan would end that "everlasting 
sarmon." At length the sleighs ap- 
peared. There had been a fall of snow 
— the first of the season — the night 
before, and it was pretty good sleigh- 
ing. The party entered, accompanied 
l\y Aunt Nannie, the second daughter, 
and her husband, Mr. John Peabody. 
This young man was descended from 
Lieut. Francis Peabod}'^ born at St. Al- 
bans, Hartfordshire, England, in 1(314. 
He came to New England in the ship 
Planter, Nicholas Frarcie, master, in 
1635. Mr. Peabody first resided at 
Ipswich. In 1038 he went to Hamp- 
ton, N. H., with the Rev. Stephen 
Bachilar and twelve others. He was 
made a freeman in 1642, and in 1649 
was chosen, by the town of Hampt(m, 
one of the three men ' ' to ende small 
causes", and was confirmed in that 
office by the justices of that court. 
'•Being minded to live nearer Boston," 
he sold his estate in Hampton and pur- 
chased a farm in Topsfield, and became 
a large landholder in Topsfield, Box- 
ford and Rowley. He set up the first 
mill in Topsfield. on a stream that flows 
past the spot where he lived. Lieut. 
Peabody was a man of great capacity 
and influence. His wife was a daugh- 
ter of Reginald Foster, whose lamily 
is honorably mentioned in "'Marmiou" 
and "The Lay of the Last Minstrel". 
He died February 19, 1097 or 1098. 
His widow died April 9, 1705. Chil- 
dren : John, Joseph, William, Isaac ; 



OF A N^OIiTAGENAIlIAK. 



11 



Sarah m. How of Ipswich ; Hepsibah 
m. Rea of Salem ViUage ; Lj'dia m. 
Jacob Perlcy ; Mary m. John Death of 
Fraiiiingham ; Ruth died before her 
ftither ; Dainaris died Dec. 19, IGCO ; 
Samuel died Sept. 13, 1677; Jacob 
d. in 10(3-4 ; Hannah d. before her fath- 
er ; Nathaniel d. in 1715 without chil- 
dren. Of this large family" three sons 
settled in Boxford, and two remained in 
Topsfleld. The Peabodys have been a 
patriotic and brave race. Two officers 
and two privates served in the French 
war. Lieut. Jacob Peabod}' fell on the 
plains of Abraham iii 1759. Six offi- 
cers, one chaplain, a surgeon, and as- 
sistant surgeon, a 1st officer in marine 
service, and five privates rendered mil- 
itar}' service during the Revolution. 
Capt. Richard Peabody commanded a 
company in the Continental army, and 
sent his sons to war as fast as he was 
al)le. Nathaniel Peabody of Atkinson, 
N. H., commanded a regiment in the 
war of the Revolution, and subsequent- 
ly represented his state in the Conti- 
nental Congress. Amongst the clergy 
the Peabodys count many eminent men. 
The Rev. Oliver Peabod^', who died in 
Natick ; the twin brothers, William 
Oliver Bourne and Oliver William 
Bourne ; Rev. David Peabody, profes- 
soa in the college at Hanover ; Rev. 
Andrew P. Peabody D. D., professor 
of Harvard University, and Rev. Eph- 
raim Peabody of Boston. Professor 
SilHman of Yale College, descended 
from a Peabody. In medicine, law 
and the various walks of life, the fam- 
ily reputation has been abl}' sustained. 
Capt. John, the oldest son of Lieut. 
Francis Peabody, lived in Boxford, 
was made a freeman in 1674:, represen- 
tative from 1689 to 1691. He married 
first, Hannah Andrews; second, Sarah 



Mosely. He died in 1720 aged 78. 
Children : John ; Thomas ; Mary mar- 
ried Richard Llazen ; Lj^dia m, Jacob 
Perley ; David born July 12, 1672; 
Elizabeth m. David Andrew ; Nathan ; 
Hannah m. Jos. Buckman ; Ruth m. 
John Wood of Boxford ; Moses. En- 
sign David Peabody m. Sarah Pope of 
Dartmouth. He lived in Boxford, died 
April 1, 1726 aged 48. His widow d. 
Sept. 29, 1756, aged 72. Children: 
Thomas ; Hannah m. Jona. Fuller ol 
Sutton ; Sarah m. Daniel Wood ; Mer- 
cy, d. Sept. 26, 1793; John; Debo- 
rah, d. Aug. 21, 1736 ; Rebecca, m. 
Richard Dexter ; Susanna, d. Oct. 
1794; David, born Oct. 4, 1724; Ma- 
ry, d. in 1736 ; David Peabody m. Ma- 
vy Gaines of Ipswich, and settled on a 
farm in Andover. Having become a 
zealous member of the Baptist com- 
munion, he moved to Haverhill, where 
a church of that denomination had 
been established. A short time after 
his removal he died, on Aug. 16, 1774, 
aged 50. His widow died in New- 
burj'port, at the residence of her son- 
in-law, Mr. Leonard Smith, April, 
1806, aged 77. Children: Lucy m. 
Peter jMiddleton, lived in Haverhill 
and Bradford ; David d. in the A'^est In- 
dies ; Sarah m. Leonard Smith ; Mary 
m. William Farmer of Bradford ; Ju- 
dith m. William Butler, lived in New- 
buryport ; Thomas m. Judith daughter 
of Jeremiah and Judith (Spofford) 
Dodge. These were the parents of 
David, George, the well-known l)ank- 
er ; and Jeremiah Dodge Peabody of 
Ohio. Deborah m. James Becket, re- 
sided in Salem; Abigail in 1765, m. 
Edmund Greenleaf of Newburyport ; 
John born Feb 22, 1768; Josiah 
Gaines m. Edna Greenough, resided in 
Porstmouth. Mrs. David Peabody at 



12 



EEMINISCENCES 



her husband's death, was left with this 
large family of young children. John 
was apprenticed to learn the trade of 
a shoe-maker to Mr. Josiali Bartlett of 
Newbury. Upon coming of age he es- 
tablished himself at the main road. In 
addition to the shoe trade, he set up a 
general furnishing store. March 30, 
1791, he married Anna, second daugh- 
ter of Joseph and Mary (Johnson) 
Little, of Newbury. The young couple 
set up housekeeping in a house contig- 
uous to the shop, which stood next be- 
low the residence of Dea. John Osgood. 
The Peabodys date back to Boadie, a 
gallant British chieftain, who, in the 
year A. D. 61, came to the rescue of 
his noble and chivalrous Queen and 
kinswoman, Boadicea, when "bleeding 
from the Roman rods." From the dis- 
astrous battle in which she lost her 
crown and life, he fled to the Cambrian 
mountains, in Wales. There his pos- 
terity lived and became a terror to the 
Lowlands. From their frequent raids 
into the Roman territory, he was desig- 
nated Pea Bodie (Mountain Man ; Pea 
signif3'ing mountain, and Bodie man). 
Some members of the family retained 
the British name, Peabod}' ; others an- 
glic3'sed it into Hillman, some as the 
German Bergmann, while others divid- 
ed it into its constituents, thus origin- 
ating the names of Hill and Mann. 
There was a Peabod}^ among the 
Knights of the Round Table, the name 
being registered with due heraldric 
honors, b}' command of King Arthur. 
Boadie, with his own hand, killed 
Galbuta, a distinguished Roman gener- 
al, and, following the custom of assum- 
ing the arms of the vanquished if he 
were a person of note, Boadie copied 
the two suns proper from the armor of 



Galbuta and adopted them as his own 
arms. 




^^ 



"^r^ 



v*^ 



PARTY PER PESS NEBULE, GULES, AZURE, 

T^VO SUNS PROPER. WITH A GARB, 

CREST AND EAGLE. 

Dinner was innnediately set upon the 
table. Grace having been said, due 
justice was given to the turkey and plum 
pudding. Aunt Sukey received many 
encomiums upon her cooking, part of 
which Aunt Hannah declared she should 
appropriate. " Sukey never would 
have basted that turkey as I did, for 
fear of injuring her fine complexion." 
Then the wild little minx, as her sisters 
termed her, fell to clearing the table, 
having first stirred the kettle of boiUng 
dish-water with the knives and forks, 
' ' in order that it should not boil away 
the beaux." The girls washed the din- 
ner things ; the others repaired to the 
"fore room", where Uncle Ben had a 
bright fire blazing across the shiny 
black fire-dogs, with nigger faces, which 
my roguish young uncle wished me to 
admire. Aunt Hannah called me to go 
with her up stairs, to see the girls 
dress. 

When Nannie was married, their 
father had given his two next oldest 
daughters silk dresses. This had 
called forth severe animadversion from 
his sisters. "To think of Brother 



OF A n^onagexaeia:n". 



13 



Jose's extravagance ; and he had 
bought all of them, but Hanner, gold 
necklaces, ear-drops and a finger ring ! 
Well, they allers said he never could 
be forehanded when he married Mollie 
Johnson, she was so high bred and had 
so much 'Port' company." These and 
similar speeches, which, somehow, al- 
ways got reported to the subject of 
them, caused m}' grandfather's family 
much diversion. Miss Bett}' Brad- 
street, a wealthy consin of ni}' grand- 
mother, a maiden ladv, and a resident 
of the "Port", had upon a recent visit 
brought m}' two aunts each a brooch to 
match theirp^ear-drops, and the girls 
made themselves very merr}' over what 
their father's sisters would say to this 
addition to their finery-, each devoutly 
hoping that they would never know but 
their brother had purchased them. 
The brown silks were vastly becoming. 
The}' were made with full skirts, tight 
waists, low square necks, with tight 
sleeves reaching just below the elbow, 
finished b}' a ruffle, with an under one 
of lace. The neck was covered by a 
square white muslin handkerchief, doub- 
led and tucked under the dress, im- 
mensely puffed out in front, long black 
net mitts covered the hands and arms, 
and when the jewelry was added, to my 
childish ej'es my two girlish aunts pre- 
sented the verj' acme ol splendor. 

My mother and aunts were very hand- 
some women. Never did six sisters 
more closely resemble each other. I 
have often heard it remarked, that in 
after years, when dressed alike in 
mourning, at a funeral, it was difficult 
to distinguish one from another. I 
would that their portraits were extant ; 
they would form a rare galaxy of 
beauty. Of medium hight, trim fig- 
ures, small hands and feet, black 



hair and eyes (with the exception of 
Nannie's, whose were deep blue), fair 
skin, cherry lips, white teeth, a brilliant 
color, the eyes sparkling, with much ex- 
pression in conversation, a lively mien, 
tempered b^' much grace and sensibili- 
ty, great courtesy and kindness of 
heart — little wonder that the six Little 
girls should become the reigning toasts 
of the period. Their toilets completed, 
my aunts joined the rest in the parlor. 
Nuts were cracked, apples roasted, a 
mug of flip was made, songs sung and 
stories told. At dusk father went home 
to do his chores ; soon after, Amos Chase 
and Stephen Bartlett came to take their 
affianced to the part}'. These young 
gentlemen were arraj'ed in blue coats, 
with brass buttons, buff vests, satin 
breeches, silk stockings, silver knee and 
shoe buckles, their hair frizzled, pow- 
dered and cued. 

The evening's entertainment was at 
Deacon Tenney's. Mrs. Tenney, my 
father's eldest sister, lilve my grand- 
mother Little, had a house full of girls. 
The deacon, though honoring his office, 
was the prince of hospitality, and an in- 
vitation to his house gave occasion for 
much satisfaction. After the 3'oung 
people had gone, Mr, and Mrs. Pea- 
body and Uncle Bill having accompan- 
ied them, grandsir, grandma'm and my 
mother drew round the fire for a quiet 
chat. We children went into the kitch- 
en to play blind man's buff, aunt Su- 
key, much to our delight, condescending 
to join in the sport. At seven o'clock, 
my father having returned, supper was 
served. Soon after, as m}' eyelids, not- 
withstanding strenuous exertions to the 
contrar}', would shut, mother declared 
it was time for home. 

The next day we dined and spent the 
evening in my grandmother Smith's 



14 



REMlNISCElSrCES 



room. T'^^ncle and aunt Thurrell came 
to tea, and other neighboring relatives 
dropped in for the evening. Saturda}' 
afternoon mother had company, but as 
Saturday night was considered holy 
time, they left at an early hour. The 
next week was one continued festival. 
^Msiting was general throughout the 
parish. Each one's skill in cooking- 
was discussed, and the meiits of differ- 
ent persons' mince pies and plum cake 
pronounced. Nor was the visiting con- 
fined to the females, the gentlemen of- 
ten came alone. Two of four neigh- 
bors for 3'ears made it a practice to 
come together to take tea with us the 
week following Tlianksgiving. Never 
shall I forget the gusto with which the}- 
demolished the huge piles of dipped 
toast, or the way they smacked their 
lips over the pies and cake, all the 
while declaring "that for cooking, little 
Prudy Smith bore the palm." 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Puritan Sa])bath commenced at 
sunset Saturday night — a literal inter- 
pretation of the scripture text "And 
the evening and the morning were the 
first day." Supper eaten, silence and 
rest settled over the household. To 
most this was a grateful period of re- 
pose, in which, in the long evenings, 
they were only to happ}- too fokl tlieir 
hands and doze away the hours till the 
early bedtime, eight o'clock being the 
usual hour for retiring on that night. 
Others were glad of tliis leisure for read- 
ing, but many could not have been in- 
duced to peruse an>'thing save the Bible, 
psalm book, a sermon or some religious 
treatise. M}' father and mother were 



less strict. Father usually passed the 
time in conning the columns of the 
"Independent Chronicle and Universal 
Advertiser," a weekly sheet of small 
size, printed by "Nathaniel Willis, 
Boston, opposite the New Court 
House," which was taken conjointly 
with Uncle Amos Dole. In 171)3 
"The Impartial Herald," ( Newbury- 
port Herald) was established in New- 
buryport. 

Deacon Teuuey had a thriving tobac- 
conist business, and he went to Boston 
two or three times a month, with snuff 
and cigars ; upon his return he usually 
brought some reading matter. This 
was a rare treat, especially to m}- moth- 
er. Saturday evening was an oasis in 
her life of toil ; the one space of soul 
refreshment eagerly anticipated through 
the week, but I fear her studies would 
not always have been pronounced can- 
onical. Great-grandfather Johnson's 
3-oungest daughter married Master Si- 
mon Chase, a school teacher of much 
renown, and a man devoted to litera- 
ture. Besides many books of his own, 
to which he was constantly adding, he 
had, through his wife, come into poses- 
sion of most of her father's librar}'. 
This couple resided in the former par- 
sonage, everj'thing still remaining as it 
had been in the minister's lifetime. 
Mother, being a frequent visitor at her 
aunt Hannah's, was usually supplied 
with a ])ook from their shelves, and 
father sometimes brought her one of the 
love-laden romances of the period, 
loaned to her by some of her " I'ort " 
friends. 

Sunday, if in health, everyltody was 
expected to attend puV)lic worship. In 
warm weather, grandmother and Aunt 
Sarah drove together in the square 
topped chaise. Uncle Enoch usually 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



15 



walked ; 1113^ father rode on his hand- 
some horse, my mother riding on the 
pillion behind him. At a ver}^ early 
age, as I was a quiet little girl, much 
to my joy I was permitted to go to 
meeting, and usually rode between my 
grandmotlier and aunt in the chaise, but 
sometimes was perched on mother's 
lap, a ride I vastlj' enjoyed, espescially 
if father put his horse to a gallop. 

Never shall I forget my first advent 
at meeting. Great had been the prep- 
aration for this public appearance, for 
mother had a good share of wholesome 
sort of i)ride, and, as was natural for 
a youthful matron, wished her little 
daughter to look as prett}' as possible. 
Grandmother Little owned a famously 
embroidered, linen cambric christening- 
frock, and this garment having done ser- 
vice at all the l)aptisms, was now remod- 
elled for ni}' Siuiday dress. Mother con- 
structed a tast}' green silk l)0nnet, and 
Cirandfather Little presented a pair of 
red shoes, of his own make. 

The meetinghouse, a square, weather 
embrowned structure, without steeple 
or bell, crowned a high hill, up which a 
stony road w^ound in steep ascent. A 
horse block for the convenience of the 
pillion riders stood by the front steps, 
and a long row of low sheds, shelter for 
the horses, extended to the left. The 
interior was a handsome specimen 
of the ecclesiastical architecture of the 
period. The wide front door led 
through a broad aisle to a high pulpit 
furnished with green cushions. A 
sounding board depended from the ceil- 
ing above, and the communion table 
stood in front. A sounding board usu- 
ally was about eight feet in diameter, 
and shaped like an inverted wine-glass 
flattened toward the brim ; it hung 
some six feet above the pulpit cushion. 



Generall}' this adjunct to the sacred 
desk displayed gracefulness of design 
and beauty of decoration. A circular 
moulding enclosed the suspending rod 
wliere it entered the ceiling. This ap- 
pendage was to aid the speaker b}^ 
equally diffusing the sound of the voice 
in ever}' part of the building. 

The broad aisle was intersected by a 
narrower one, into which side entrances 
opened. Another aisle ran around the 
edifice, separating the wall pews from 
those in the bod}' of the house. These 
pews were enclosed by handsomely 
turned balusters. Front of the pulpit 
were rows of seats, for the accommo- 
dation of those wishing to be near 
the preacher, or elderly persons who 
were not pew holders. The benches to 
the right were for females, those to the 
left for males. The singers occupied 
the front gallery, to which a flight of 
stairs led each side of the front door. 
The side galleries were furnished with 
one long pew, extending the length of 
the wall ; the space in front was filled 
with benches. The wall pew to the 
riglit was set apart for the young wom- 
en ; girls occupied the centre tier of 
benches, while the front was filled by 
middle-aged women. The opposite gal- 
lery was similarly occupied by young 
men in the wall pew, boys and men on 
the benclies. The large, square pews, 
in addition to the seats, were furnished 
with one or two high-backed chairs, 
which stood in the centre. These were 
commonly of rich wood, handsomely 
carved, with flag seats. Tliese chairs 
were the posts of honor, and were usu- 
ally occupied liy elderly ladies. Be- 
sides tlie chairs, there was generally 
one or more high stools, for the accom- 
modation of the more infantile portion 
of the congregation. Ours was a wall 



16 



REMINISCENCES 



pew, the second to the right from the 
front door. M}^ grandmother led me 
in and placed me on a stool beside her 
chair. Mother, somewhat llusteved, 
but looking prond and pleased, seated 
herself behind me, and Aunt Sarah 
fidgeted around, placing the highest 
footstool Ijeneath my feet. How vast 
and splendid everything seemed ! At 
length I began to take in details and 
recognize my relatives and acquaint- 
ances. There were C4randsir's and 
Uncle John Little's pew ; Uncle Thur- 
rell's ; the Doles' ; those of Aunt Sara, 
Col. Thomas ; Mr. Stephen and Enoch 
Noyes, Deacon Osgood, Mr. Newell, 
the Emerys, Carrs, Bartletts, Follans- 
bees. Baileys, Uncle John and Deacon 
Abel Merrill, Dr. Sawyer ; the parson- 
age pew, to the left of the pulpit ; those 
of the Hummers, Woodmans, Chases, 
Ilsleys, Bricketts, Hills, Adamses, 
Carletons and Jaques. The pew match- 
ing that of the parsonage, to the right of 
the pulpit, had several owners, and bore 
the designation of ''Everybody's pew". 
Elderly women in close, black silk bon- 
nets, and thick silks or bright chintzes, 
quietly seated themselves, with demure, 
"Sabba' da}'" faces. More youthful 
matrons and maidens glided in, radiant 
in lighter silks, white muslins or cam- 
bric calicoes, and silk hats of various 
hues, gail}" trimmed with ribbons, flow- 
ers or long, waving plumes. Little 
folks, like m3'self, stared about, or 
twirled the balusters of the pews. 
The three deacons — Tenney, Merrill 
and Osgood — entered and took their 
places beneath the pulpit. Par- 
son Toppan, in his black gown and 
white l)ands, accompanied by his wife 
and family, walked majesticall}' up the 
broad aisle. There was the clatter of 
many feet, as the minister's entrance 



was the signal for the men and bo3's 
who had been grouped around the 
meeting-house, to come in. Tithing- 
man Tewkesbur}', his long pole in hand, 
took his place amidst the boys in the 
galler}'^^ ; Sexton Cooper tip-toed to his 
seat on the pulpit stairs. Parson Top- 
pan rose and read two lines of a psahn ; 
Deacon Osgood stepped forward and 
repeated them ; mother's cousin, Ed- 
mund Little, with a pitch-pipe, set the 
tune ; the choir sang the lines ; the two 
next were given out, and thus the 
psalm was sung. This was followed 
by a long prayer and a longer sermon. 
The benediction pronounced, there was 
a moment's pause ; then the minister 
descended from the pulpit, took his 
wife upon his arm, and, followed b}' his 
children, proceeded down the aisle, the 
clerical cortege gracefully returning the 
respectful bows and courtsies of the 
congregation. The clergyman's family 
was followed by the more aristocratic 
persons from the pews ; these by the 
remainder of the audience. INIan}^ peo- 
ple, especially in cold weather, took 
their dinner, and staid at the meeting- 
house during the short intermission. 
In winter we rode in the large, high- 
backed sleigh. Sometimes, when storm 
and wind had prevented the breaking 
of the paths, father and Uncle Enoch 
walked to meeting on their snow shoes, 
and Mr. Josiah Bartlett would yoke 
his oxen and take his large family 
thither on the sled. 



CHAPTER V. 

The fourth parish in Newbury, like 
its predecessor at the river side, and 
the parent society at Oldtown, belong- 



OF A NOKAGENAEIAISr. 



17 



ed to what might be termed, the low 
chmx'.li wing of Congregationalism. 
The Rev. William Johnson had been 
strongl}^ opposed to the more rigid 
views of some of his brethren in the 
ministry. He would not admit the re- 
nowned Whitefield into his pulpit, and 
the great revivalist was obliged to 
preach in a private house. 

I have often heard ni}' great aunt 
Sara No3'es describe the sensation pro- 
duced l\y the eloquent diA'ine. My 
greatgrandfather. Deacon John Noyes, 
fully sympathized in the disapproval 
evinced by his pastor, and he issued a 
strict edict forbidding an}' of his fam- 
ily attending what he termed "those 
disorderly assemblies." Aunt Sara, 
then a girl in her teens, entertained, as 
was natural, a strong desire to see and 
hear one Avhose name was on eyery 
tongue, and whose words and their 
effects were the chief topics of conver- 
sation on every side. At last, after 
much fear and trembling, she mus- 
tered courage to make a clandes- 
tine attempt to satisfy her curiosity'. 
An evening meeting was to be 
held at a house in the vicinity, 
and she determined to brave her fath- 
er's displeasure, if her absence was 
discovered, and go. It was a dark, 
cheerless night, when, with a throbbing 
heart, stealing down the stairs and 
noiselessly opening the door, she ran 
lightly down the gravel walk. Her 
hand was on the latch of the front 
gate, when a voice, in an authoritative 
tone, exclaimed ' ' Go back ! " Startled, 
affrighted, she stopped, turned, and 
peered on all sides into the darkness. 
No one was in sight. Through the un- 
curtained window she could see her 
father and the other members of her 
family seated around the bright wood 



fire. Concluding that, owing to the 
nervous timidity which this disobedi- 
ence to paternal mandates had caused, 
imagination had .conjured up this voice, 
with another long' and searching look 
around, she opened the gate. "Go 
back ! " reiterated the voice, even more 
decidedly than at first, just in her ear. 
What could it mean? Again she 
stopped, waited, looked and listened. 
Nothing unusual could be seen, and 
not a sound could be heard save the 
wind sighing through the trees. Sara 
Noyes was, a resolute girl, not easily 
turned from any purpose she had de- 
liberately formed, neither had she much 
belief in the supernatural. Thrusting 
back her fears, with a strong will she 
stilled her throbbing heart, and with a 
firm step, she again started forward. 
" Go back, go back," thundered the 
voice, in such a powerful and author- 
itative tone, that, thrilling in ever}^ 
nerve, the astonished girl, completely 
subdued, hastily turned, and fled into 
the house. Though she lived to a gi-eat 
age, aAd could never be reckoned a 
credulous person, to the last hour of 
her life she firmly believed that this was 
a Divine interposition to keep her from 
evil. 

The Rev. David Toppan, the succeS' 
sor of the Rev. William Johnson, enter- 
tained even more liberal tenets than 
his pi:edecessor. A genial, courteous 
gentleman, ready to sympathize with 
his charge, in their various phases of 
weal and woe. Parson Toppan was a 
universal favorite. His marriage with 
a towns-woman, Miss Mary Sawyer, 
the daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawj-er, 
drew him still nearer to the hearts of his 
people. 

The intelligence that their pastor 
contemplated leaving for a professor- 



18 



EEIMTNTSCENCES 



ship at Harvard, wliich began to be 
circulated in the spring of 1792, 
brought both consternation and grief. 
It could not be. A minister ought to 
live and die amidst the people over 
which he had been ordained. After 
many contradictory rumors the matter 
became at length decided. At the 
Thursday lecture, Parson Toppan, after 
a brief summary of the conflicting 
opinions then agitating the churches, 
announced the invitation he had re- 
ceived to a professorship at the college 
at Cambridge, and his intention of ac- 
cepting it. "This decision had been 
made after much hesitation and prayer- 
ful consideration. Heresy was creep- 
ing into the institution, and it was in- 
cumbent upon every one to put forth 
their full power in support of sound 
doctrine. Neither the honor nor the 
emolument had borne a feather's weight 
in this separation from his beloved 
charge, but what he considered a call 
to a higher dut3% gave him no option 
but to obey." At these words, up jump- 
ed old Mr. Moses Newell, and with 
ire imprinted on his countenance, shak- 
ing his clenched fist at his pastor, he 
shouted, "you lie. Parson Toppan, you 
know you lie." Instantly' the congre- 
gation was in commotion, but the min- 
ister by his quiet demeanor and calm 
tones quelled the tumult ; order was 
restored, Mr. Toppan closed the .servi- 
ces, and the audience dispersed with 
sorrow in their hearts, and grief im- 
printed upon their faces, but with the 
firm conviction that their pastor was 
right ; painful as this separation was, 
it must be made ; inchnation must be 
sacrificed to duty. Old Mr. Newell 
became pacified. His wife and son ex- 
erted themselves to this end. The old 
gentleman apologized, and invited the 



clergjTnan and his wife to dine, with a 
small part}' of select friends, at his 
house. There were many parting vis- 
its, and a general catechising of the 
children throughout the parish. 

It was the custom to liold these cat- 
echisings annually, sometime during 
the spring or summer, usually on some 
afternoon in the middle of the week, in 
a house centrally located in each school 
district. As Parson Toppan wished to 
personalty bid adieu to every child of 
his large flock, the catechising was ap- 
pointed somewhat earlier that 3'ear than 
usual. The children of our district 
met at m}' grandfather Little's. Though 
I was young to attend, being a pet of 
the parson's, who was a frequent visitor 
of the fannly, much to my delight I 
was permitted to go. With a throb- 
bing heart, chnging to aunt Hannah's 
hand on one side and uncle Joe's on 
the other, I entered the large parlor 
where sat m}' grandparents and older 
aunts. Parson Toppan occupied the 
large arm chair which he drew into the 
centre of the floor. The children 
ranged in a hne in front. Having tak- 
en our places the recitations com- 
menced. With much care mother had 
taught me the " chief end of man," 
and one or two of the shortest com- 
mandments. Though terribly flustered 
till my turn came, when it was my time 
to speak I was so earnest to repeat the 
lesson right that this self-consciousness 
passed ; thus I was enabled to do m}^- 
self due credit. The good minister 
and my grandparents and aunts praised 
me, the elder children gathered around, 
petting and caressing the smallest and 
youngest of the class. Altogether it 
was as great a triumph as I ever achiev- 
ed or enjo3'ed. The catechisings and 
parting visits were over. The last, sad 



0¥ A STOKAGENAEIAN. 



19 



Sunday came and a farewell sermon 
was preached, the last tearful parting 
had passed, and the upper parish be- 
came a society without a pastor. 

Candidates l^egan to supply the pul- 
pit. Once a mouth one of the neigh- 
boring clergymen came to preach and 
administer the communion. The Rev. 
Barnard Tucker of the Oldtown socie- 
ty died that March. His successor, 
Rev. Mr. Moore, was not settled until 
about two years later. At the " Port" 
at that period there were three socie- 
ties : The First Church, where Parson 
Gary had succeeded Dr. Lowell, the 
first minister ; the Old South , where 
the venerable and saintly Parson Mur- 
ray still occupied the pulpit ; and the 
North, where the Hopkinsian Dr. 
Spring poured forth his fiery zeal. 
There was also St. Paul's Episcopal 
church, of which Bishop Bass was rec- 
tor, but with this society ours, of 
course, had no communion. 

I well remember the delight ni}' 
mother always expressed when Parson 
Gary preached. He was- her favorite 
minister, but most of her town rela- 
tions and friends attended on his min- 
istration, and many of the halcyon days 
of her maidenliood had been connected 
with this clergyman and his people. 
This may have induced an undue par- 
tialit}', still from my childish impress- 
ion I infer that Parson Cary, until 
broken by ill health, was both a fine 
writer and an eloquent speaker. 

The Rev; True Kimball was at this 
time pastor of the Second parish in 
Newbury, and the Bj-field parish had 
recently ordained the Rev. Ehjah Par- 
ish, afterwards the distinguished Fed- 
erahst divine, whose alpha and omega 
thundered over the land. His eminent 
talents and commanding eloquence had 



then just begun to attract pubhc atten- 
tion. There was also Master Smith, 
the preceptor of Dummer Academy. 
He often came over to fill the pulpit 
when other supply failed. I was great- 
ly amused with this preacher. Short, 
stout and plethoric, with an abrupt, ab- 
sent air, and a most singular pronunci- 
ation, this gentleman was a never- fail- 
ing object for merriment amongst the 
juveniles of the congregation. One of 
his pecuharities was never closing his 
eyes when in prayer. People said he 
had acquired the habit of prapng with 
his eyes open in school, keeping watch 
and ward over a parcel of unruly boys. 
Whatever the reason, he used to step 
forward in the pulpit, clasp his hands 
on the cushion, and in short, curt tones 
exclaim: "Ulmitty Gud ! " This was 
the unvar3ing commencement of his 
opening prayer. The preceptor had 
the reputation of being a great linguist. 
It was affirmed that he knew so many 
languages that he had partly forgotten 
his own. Whether or no, the man was 
a great oddity ; one of those isolated 
beings whose characteristics are wholly 
originalities. 

T'he neighboring town of Bradford, 
that part of which is now Groveland, 
also rejoiced in another somewhat re- 
markable clergyman. Parson Dutch 
was what is denominated a smart 
preacher. He was also distinguished 
for his equine tastes and jockey predi- 
lections. I have often heard my father 
laugh over an incident that occurred 
one Sunday about the time of which I 
am writing. It was a hot summer day, 
the doors of the meeting-house were 
wide open. Parson Dutch had come to 
preach. He had risen to open the 
afternoon service, when a stranger, 
mounted upon a superb charger, rodo 



20 



BEMINTSCENOES 



up to the front entrance. T^ing his 
steed opposite the door, he entered the 
sanctuary. Parson Dutch, from the 
pulpit, coimnanded a full view of the 
horse, and his audience averred that he 
"watched it "all through the sermon." 
Father said : " If it had not been Sab- 
ba' day the parson would have proposed 
a swap ; he knew he longed to bargain. 
He thought he would, spite of the day 
and his cloth." 

Father Frisby, as he was vuiiversally 
denominated, a much-beloved and ven- 
erated old man, was the minister at the 
adjacent town of Boxford. We had 
many candidates, amongst whom were 
young men that in later ^-ears became 
"burning and shining hghts." 

Year after j^ear rolled past, and still 
we were without a minister. Like the 
rest of New England, the parish became 
divided in sentiment, part adhering to 
the Armiuian tenets, the others going 
over to what was called the Hopkinsian 
side. 



CHAPTER VI. 

The summer I was four years old I 
began to attend school. The school- 
house in our district was not erected un- 
til some years later, the scholars being 
accommodated, up to that period, in a 
private house on the Crane-neck road, 
a short distance below where the pres- 
ent school edifice is located. My first 
teacher, Master Zack. Bacon, was a na- 
tive of Bradford. Female teachers 
would then have been deemed inadmis- 
sible in a district school. It would not 
have been thought possible that order 
could be maintained under feminine 
rule, where often more than half the 



scholars were unrul}' bo^'s, many of the 
eldest men gro^vn. 

The school was taught in the larger 
of the two front rooms, the remainder 
of the house being occupied liy my 
mother's cousin, Edmund Little. We 
entered by the front door ; the hats and 
])onnets were hung in the entry. The 
schoolroom was furnished with a desk 
and a flag-seated chair for the teacher ; 
a clumsy square board table stood in 
the centre of the apartment, surround- 
ed by high, wooden benches. Here 
were seated the older pupils ; the 
younger were placed upon low forms 
ranged around the walls. The scholars 
were divided into four ranlvs : the 
"Bible," "Testament," "Spelling 
Book" and "Primer" classes. Dil- 
worth's spelling book was the one then 
in use. The older scholars studied 
arithmetic, and wrote. Writing books 
were a later invention. A strong, coarse 
paper of foolscap size was then used, 
either in single sheets or several stitched 
together in book form. This paper, be- 
ing plain, was ruled. Lead pencils were 
then a thing unkuoAvn ; a plnminet of 
lead supplied their jjlace. These plum- 
mets were usually of home construction, 
and were cut in various devices, to suit 
the taste of the owner. The arithmet- 
ical rules and sums were also copied in- 
to books kept specially for that purpose. 
Master Bacon, a short, slight young 
man, somewhat of a dandy, and fresh 
from college, was a little inclined to 
what is now denominated "fast". 
Though one of the livehest and most 
entertaining of mortals out of school, 
within he maintained a stern decorum, 
quite awful to a timid novice, lilce my- 
self; but, as I had already mastered 
my alphabet and was exceedingly fasci- 
nated by my new primer, I immediately 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



21 



became a favorite with the teacher. 
With what sadness I** used to gaze at 
that memorable picture of John Rogers 
at the stake. How many times I have 
counted the heads, to ascertain whether 
there were ten or eleven little ones. 
How my sympathies went out to those 
poor children and their distressed moth- 
er. With what genuine delight I would 
con — 

" 111 Adam's fall 

We sinned all. 

The cat doth play, 

And after slay." 

With what pride I would repeat : "Who 
was the first man ? Adam ; Who was 
the first woman ? Eve ; Who was the 
first murderer ? Cain ; Who was the 
first martyr ? Abel ; " and the remain- 
der of the long list of BibUcal biogra- 

The first morning Master Bacon 
opened the school without prayer. The 
scholars reported, and in the evening 
he was Avaited upon b}' several of the 
dignitaries of the district, to ascertain 
the cause of the omission. The gentle- 
man excused the oversight, with the 
promise that it should never be repeat- 
ed. Accordingly we scholars were fa- 
vored henceforth with an unusually long 
petition morning and evening, the gen- 
tleman assuring his chums that he had 
as lief pray as do aniything else for 
the money. Master Bacon taught the 
school for two 3'ears, with much accept- 
ance ; he then removed to a wider 
sphere of action. Afterward he emi- 
grated to Vermont, where he became a 
leading citizen. 

His successor was Samuel Moody, 
from the Falls parish. This gentle- 
man, a very handsome and well-bred 
young man, besides Ijeing an excellent 
teacher, was proficient as a vlohnist. 



His fiddle was a never-failing source of 
delight. I was a gi-eat favorite with 
Master Sam. He always led me home 
from school, and as he boarded at my 
great-uncle John Little's, I was daily 
favoi-ed with a tune. 

Master Ned Longfellow, also from 
Byfield, next taught the school. He 
soon after removed to Maine, where he 
became distinguished. It is from this 
ftimily that the poet, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow, is descended. 

The summer I was eight years old a 
Miss Ruth Emerson, from Hampstead, 
N. H., collected a select school. There 
were from twenty to thirty scholars, 
mostly girls ; there were a few small 
boys. I believe the tuition was but six 
cents a week. This lady promoted us 
into " Webster's SpelUng Book" and 
"Webster's Third Part"— books then 
just coming into use. Miss Emerson 
was a most accompKshed needlewoman, 
inducting her pupils into the mysteries 
of ornamental marking and embroidery. 
This fancy work opened a new world of 
delight. I became perfectly entranced 
over a sampler that was much admired, 
and a muslin handkerchief, that I 
wrought for mother, became the wonder 
of the neighborhood. 

My father had purchased the portion 
of the homestead inherited by his 
brother Samuel, and that gentleman, 
after much hesitation and deliberation, 
at length decided upon the arduous un- 
dertaking of emigrating to a new coun- 
try. Several of his wife's relations had 
recently loctrted themselves upon farms 
in Vermont. Mrs. Smith was anxious 
to join them. ' ' She was tired of living 
in such an old-settled place, where, un- 
less one possessed a large farm, for 
years they must play second fiddle, 
screw and scrimp to secure a mere com- 



22 



EEMINISCENCES 



petence. For her part she preferred to 
go into the wilderness, where, if things 
were not as nice, one hved as their 
neighbors. She had rather be at 
the 'head of the poor tlian the tail 
of the rich.' In Vermont, where 
land was cheap, they conld secure a 
goodly number of acres. The boys 
would become more nseful every 3'^ear. 
In time they could get forehanded ; be 
as well off as any one. Then, as her 
husband possessed fine literar}^ tastes 
and some culture, it opened a sphere 
for his ambition. She would not be 
surprised if he became an influential 
and distinguished citizen." 

Swedenborg affirms that man posses- 
ses the understanding, and woman the 
will. Uncle Sam, after mature consid- 
eration, could find no valid reason for 
insubordination to the feminine Avill ; a 
tract of land in the town of Berlin was 
purchased, and the pre})aratious for a 
removal thither commenced. February 
was the time set for the tlitting, as that 
month usually gave the best sledding, 
a great desideratum for the transmis- 
sion of the household goods. Such a 
flurry as the whole family and all its 
collateral l)ranches were in, for several 
weeks, seldom occurs in a life-time. 
Clothing for a year or two in advance 
must be prepared. One sister cut a 
generous quarter from her web of linen ; 
another from her fulled cloth ; a third 
presented blankets ; another relative 
gave cloth for woolen dresses, and 
stocking 3'arn. Several ladies, rela- 
tives and friends, cluldted together and 
bought a number of handsome articles 
as parting gifts. There was a round 
of farewell visits, each of which was 
turned into a sewing-bee for the benefit 
of the emigrants. A large sleigh was 
constructed, Avhich was covered by one 



ofthe check ed woolen coverlets then so 
much used. Aj^uantity of provisions 
was provided, cooked meats and poul- 
tr}', pies, cake, doughnuts, bread, but- 
ter and cheese were packed into a 
wooden box ; this, other luggage, a 
feather bed, bedding and coverlets, 
were placed in the sleigh, along with 
the family. It was necessary to thus 
prepare for the night's accomodation, 
as the houses of entertainment on the 
route were few in number, small, and 
often over-crowded. The furniture was 
loaded upon two ox-sleds. My father 
drove his sled, to which was attached 
a yoke of oxen and a horse. Mr. Bai- 
ley, Aunt Smith's brother, drove the 
other team. Uncle Sam had a 3'oke of 
oxen forward of his brother's pair, and 
another relative drove his four cows. 
It was a clear, frosty morning when the 
cavalcade took their departure. A sad 
parting to all, but especially to me, 
as my cousin Sally, a girl of my own 
age, and ni}' other cousins, had been 
my playmates tVoni infancy. A lone- 
some fortnight followed ; two weeks 
that, then, appeared as long as two years 
have since. To add to my discomfort 
and loneliness, my little brother, like 
other baby boys, toddling into mischief, 
contrived, during the momentary ab- 
sence of mother, to pull over the tea- 
kettle, which was standing in the cliim- 
ne}' corner, scalding his right arm and 
hand badly. 

Mother went silentlj^ about the house 
with a worried look. Grandmother 
dozed through the days in her low 
chair, tipped back against the ceiling 
by the fireplace. Aunt Sarah was not 
half as brisk and cheery as usual, and 
Uncle Enoch grew decidedly' surly. 
Poor little Jim's arm grew worse. 
Mother and Aunt Sarah became anx- 



OP A kon'Agenaeia:n'. 



23 



ious, when one of the neighl)ors brought 
in Mrs. Salter's recipe for a burn. 
Mrs. Salter, a somewhat noted woman 
at the "Port," had effected many cures. 
It was concluded to try the prescrip- 
tion. A linen glove and sleeve were 
fitted over the burn ; these were kept 
saturated with a mixture of olive oil 
and snow water, beat to a froth. In 
less than a week the sore was healed 
and a new skin formed. The sun was 
just setting, on the twenty-first day of 
father's absence ; I was dragging little 
Jim across the sanded floor upon his 
tiny sled, when Aunt Sarah's glad tones 
reverberated over the house — " Broth- 
er Jim 's come ; Brother Jim 's coming 
up the lane." There was a general 
rush to the back door. Yes, oh joy ! 
there was father, unyoking his oxen at 
the gate. A regular jubilee ensued. 
Tlie sirloin steak that had been kept 
for this occasion was cooked ; a plate 
of the nicest cream toast dipped ; the 
best mince pie, plum cake, doughnuts, 
cheese and preserves were placed upon 
the table. Grandma'am, Annt Sarah 
and Uncle Enoch joined us at supper. 
After tea, as the news spread that 
''Jim Smith had got home," the neigh- 
bors flocked in to hear of the journey 
and the new country which he had vis- 
ited. The room was soon filled, and a 
cordial welcome was given to the trav- 
eller. We could not but be pleased at 
the evident satisfaction manifested at 
father's safe return. I was permitted to 
sit up till an unwonted hour, to hear a 
description of the journey ; of the slow 
progress through the long, cold daj^s ; 
and the weary nights at the small, in- 
convenient taverns, which were often so 
crowded that the males of the company 
were obhged to sleep on the kitchen 
floor J wrapped in their coverlets. At the 



end of a tedious week the new home 
was reached. One of Aunt Smith's 
brothers dived in a log house, roofed 
with bark ; with a stone chimney ; 
the other Mr. Bailey had put up 
a good-sized frame house. The brick 
chimney was built, the outside fin- 
ished, and the floors laid, but the 
rooms were not partitioned. There 
was, however, sufficient space. Quilts 
and coverlets were suspended from the 
beams. Uncle Sam's family went to 
housekeeping one side of the chimney', 
while ]\Ir. Bailey's occupied the other 
side. A saw mill was near ; Uncle 
Sam immediately began to cut timber 
and haul it to the mill, and he expect- 
ed to get up a house and barn that 
would be tenantable by warm weather. 
Father had not caught the emigrant 
fever ; he was a home bod^^, firmly 
attached to the ancestral acres. "If he 
left Massachusetts he should prefer to 
go South rather than North. Still, 
Vermont was a fine state ; a great grain 
and grazing country." The Bailee's had 
raised a large crop of wheat of an extra 
quality. Father bought a quantit}' of 
the grain, and brought it home in a 
board chest which he constructed and 
fastened to his sled for that purpose. 
This was quite a successful speculation, 
as he paid only a dollar per bushel and 
it sold readily at home for a dollar and 
a half. It must be remembered that 
the family flour barrel had not then 
come into vogue. Wheat was raised 
upon the farm, or bought and ground 
by the bushel. Bolts had been put into 
most of the mills, but some families 
still used their flour unbolted. Indian 
meal and r3'e, especially rye, were the 
staples for daily use in most house- 
holds. Barley was also raised and 
ground, but wheat flour was somewhat 



24 



KEMINISCENCES 



of a luxury ; a housekeeper felt rich 
with a bushel or two on hand, and it 
was made to last a lone; time. 



chaptp:r VII. 

On July 19th, 1704, occurred one of 
those catastrophes that send a thrill of 
horror and anguish throughout the com- 
munity. My seventh birth-day came a 
few days pre^aous. Aunt Hannah Lit- 
tle and myself had been for some time 
anticipating the pleasure of spending 
the anniversary with my mother's aunt, 
Mrs. Simeon Chase. This lady still 
occupied the paternal homestead. The 
parish, then an infant one just gather- 
ed, had not, at the settlement of the 
Rev. William Johnson, provided a par- 
sonage. The clergyman purchased sev- 
eral acres near the meeting-house, upon 
which he erected a house and farm 
buildings. The mansion, a square, dou- 
ble house, with a chimney at either end, 
stood a httle below the meeting-house, 
on the opposite side of the street, just 
bej'ond the brow of the hill. A narrow 
lawn, shaded by maples, extended in 
front, a picket fence separating it from 
the grassy country road from which a 
gravel wallv led up to the front en- 
trance. A carriage drive ran round 
the end to a side door, and to the barn 
and other buildings in the rear. Mrs. 
Chase and another sister, afterwards 
Mrs. Moody, were unmarried at the 
time of their father's decease. As the 
other sisters had each received a full 
"fixing out," the furniture of the house 
had been given to these two single 
daughters. At his marriage. Master 
Simeon Chase bought the Parsonage, 



the library and other appertenances ; 
consequently the premises at that time 
presented nearly the same aspect they 
had borne during the first pastor's life. 
Madame Johnson's father, Dr. Hum- 
phrey Bradstreet, had furnished his 
daughter's new house in a st^'le not fre- 
quent in those days. The principal 
entrance opened into a spacious hall, 
handsomely furnished in dark wood, 
from which a highly ornamented stair- 
case led to the story above. The white 
wall was decorated with the portraits of 
Lieut. Governor Dummer and his wife, 
and a view of Harvard College. Under 
the pictures stood a large, massive din- 
ing table. The parlor, a square, pleas- 
ant room, was to the left of the en- 
trance. Its three windows commanded 
a lovely view of the surrounding coun- 
try and the river, bounded by the roll- 
ing hills of its forther shore. This 
room displayed an unusual embellish- 
ment ; the walls were hung with a velvet 
paper, a purple figure on a buff ground. 
Papered walls had not yet become 
common, no paste was used ; four pol- 
ished hard wood convex ''slats running- 
round the room held the hangings in 
place. Small, slender brass andirons, 
and a tiny brass shovel and tongs 
adorned the tiled fireplace, an antique 
table, its legs curiously carved and or- 
namented, stood between the front win- 
dows ; over it hung a mirror in a black 
and gilt frame ; the chairs were cane 
seated and a strip of cane was inserted 
into the high, carved backs. An arm- 
chair occupied one corner ; opposite 
stood the buffet, lustrous with rich 
silver, brightly painted china and glasses 
of various shapes and graceful device. 
The librar}-, the opposite front room, 
had shelves round the two sides, well 
filled with books, and a study table in 



OF A ]SrO]!5^0GE]SrAKIA]Sr. 



25 



the centre. Master Chase kept a pri- 
vate school in this apartment part of 
the year. The back sitting-room was 
supplied with more common furniture, 
and a press-bed that turned up in a re- 
cess behind folding doors. The kitchen, 
the other back room, had lieeu furnished 
with every convenience then considered 
requisite for the domestic purposes of a 
large family ; the fireplace was huge, 
even for those days, and the long dres- 
ser shimmered with an array of bright 
pewter. 

Master Chase, a very eccentric per- 
son, was his wife's senior by several 
years, and he was fond of relating how 
he had never dreamed of raarr^ing lit- 
tle Hannah Johnson when, at her fath- 
er's desire, she used to draw a tankard 
of cider for his refreshment upon his 
calls on the clergyman in his college va- 
cations. The pair were childless for 
fifteen years of married life ; then a lit- 
tle girl was born to them. This event 
caused such a sensation, was such a 
wonder throughout the family and the 
vicinity, that the Master declared the 
babe's name should be Myra. M_\Ta, 
therefore, she was christened. Little 
Myra, on the watch for her expected 
guests, met us at the gate ; Aunt Chase, 
a shght, l)lack-eyed woman, bade us 
welcome at the door. After a lunch, 
Myra took us over the premises. The 
Master taught one or the other of the 
district schools in the town during the 
wiuter, but through the summer he re- 
ceived pupils at home, youths fitting 
themselves in the higher branches of 
learning, for college or mercantile life. 
School over, we went into the librar}-. 
How numerous the books looked. Else- 
where I had uever found more than a 
dozen or so in a house, and we were 
much amused with the plates in illus- 



trated copies of Josephus, and Homer's 
Ihad. The Master was in the best of 
humor, aud made us laugh through din- 
ner. When he chose he could be one 
of the most entertaining of mortals, 
but he was often quite the reverse. His 
famity were accustomed to his oddities, 
and his pupils were obliged to bear 
them. 

In the afternoon Mr. Parker Chase's 
daughter Sukey, from the main road, 
came in. As Aunt Hannah and I took 
leave, Miss Chase asked me to carry an 
invitation to our neighbor. Nab by Hale, 
to join a party, across the river, huckle- 
berr3ing the next week. Miss Hale, 
who was on the eve of marriage to Mr. 
Moses Longfellow, of Byfield, resided 
with her grandfather Dole, on a farm 
at the southerly end of Crane-neck hill. 
The young lady was sewing on her 
wedding dress, when I deUvered the 
message. She said she should ^dsit her 
stepfather before her marriage, and if 
not too busy would join the excursion- 
ists. 

On the Saturday afternoon of the fol- 
lowing week. Aunt Sarah and I went 
into the pasture to pick berries. It 
was a hot, sultry day betokening show- 
ers. Wandering on into Bradford 
woods, unheeding the sky, we were 
startled by a terifflc thunder peal ac- 
companied by a violent gust of wind. 
Hastily turning, we saw that the west 
was threatening!}^ black with clouds, 
aud though only a few scattering drops 
reached us, in the direction of the main 
road it was raining heavily. The first 
fright over, I seized my basket, in or- 
der to hasten home as fast as possible, 
but Aunt Sarah said there was no cause 
for hurr}', the shower would not come 
our way, it would follow the river. 
Without outstripping my companion I 



28 



EEMnilSCENCES 



the paternal roof; there were also three 
young men, apprentices, learning the 
trade of a shoemaker. Grandsir at 
that time carried on a brisk business, 
as business was reckoned in those days, 
in a shop near the dwelling — this, and 
the care of a good sized farm, kept ev- 
ery one busy. Family worship and 
breakfast over, the ' ' men folks " went 
to their labor, and grandmam' and the 
girls began the day's roxitine. The two 
youngest girls assisting alternately week 
by week in the housework and spinning. 
The wea\dng was usuall}' put out to 
some neighboring woman, though some- 
times an assistant was hired to weave 
at the house for a few weeks. In the 
cold weather, the morning work fin- 
ished, and the dinner put over the fire 
to boil, grandmam', would seat herself 
by the window with her basket, and 
caU me to a stool by her side, Avliere I 
industriously stitched through the d:iy, 
now and then recreating w-lth a run to 
the chaml)er where my aunt, unless the 
weather was very severe, usually spun, 
or to the shop or barn with Uncle Joe, 
my boy uncle, a great rogue, but my 
very best friend and crony. Company 
often came of an afternoon, for though 
my grandmother seldom visited, she 
was "given to hospitality," and the 
neighbors, relatives and town's folks 
fully appreciated and enjoyed the at- 
tractions of her house and tea table. 

At dark my work was laid aside. 
Uncle Joe and I occupied the form in 
the chimney corner of an evening, 
cracking nuts, parching corn in the 
ashes with a crooked stick, roasting 
apples and telling stories or riddles, 
or playing fox and geese on a board, 
chalked for the game, with a red kernel 
of corn for the fox and yellow for 
geese. 



At nine o'clock grandsir and the 
young men came. Grandsir would seat 
himself in his arm-chair, before the fire 
to toast his feet, grandmam' la}' aside 
her knitting and draw her low one to 
the corner beside our form. The nuts, 
corn and apples were passed roinid, 
and sometimes a mug of flip was made. 
After all had become warmed and re- 
freshed, the Biljle was laid on the 
stand, a fresh candle lighted, and the 
old gentleman reverently read a chap- 
ter, then a length}- prayer was offered, 
through which we all stood with heads 
bowed devoutl}', though I am sorry to 
say that grandmam's thoughts were 
sometimes called to this mundane 
sphere, by that incorrigible Joe, and 
her low " 'sh " could often be detec- 
ted, as she thwarted some mischief, or 
prevented some prank, played with the 
dire intent of making me laugh. With 
the warmer weather Aunt Betsy trans- 
ferred our work to lier chaml)er, where 
it escaped the espionage of the curious 
eyes and gossijnng tongues that dur- 
ing the winter had at times been ex- 
cessively annoying ; but in the long, 
bright June afternoons I used to steal 
down to the front entry ; seated upon 
the sill of the open door, my fingers 
kept time to the murmur of the brook 
or the song of the birds in the willows 
bordering the silvery stream just be- 
3'ond the gravel path, edged by flowers, 
the perfume of which, mingling with 
that of the lilacs and sweet briar, filled 
the air with grateful odor. Grand- 
mam' took great pleasure in her flow- 
ers. Though sister No3'es " could not 
see how she found time for sich fiddle- 
de-dees," and brotlier John's wife pro- 
nounced " sich things all vanity," and 
otlier wise people thought it Avould be 
better to raise something useful, grand- 



OP A NON'OGEi^'ARIAN. 



29 



mam' contimied to cultivate lier garden 
to the end of her long life. Her 
crocuses, tulips and other spring 
flowers were a rare show ; there were 
a splendid collection of pinks and roses, 
and a great arra^^ of autumnal flowers. 
Hollyhocks of every variety, French, 
velvet and double marigolds, asters of 
all shades, double coxcomb, and a bed 
of crimson, purple and j-ellow amar- 
anths. One of my first recollections 
is sitting on the wide, white door stone, 
watcliing the many hued four o'clocks 
as their petals unfolded to the after- 
noon sun. Another delight was assis- 
ting grandmam', in the autumn to ar- 
ange in pretty vases of home construc- 
tion the dried amaranths, which mingled 
with white-everlasting, miUc-weed, bit- 
ter-sweet and evergreen, made prett}' 
winter bouquets, to decorate the man- 
tles of the parlor and living room ; 
these, with the wreaths of running ever- 
green round the mirror and clock, also 
elicited criticism. ' ' Sich things did very 
well for some folks. If Miss Little had 
to delve and drudge like most women, 
she would' nt want dried posies and 
greens a littering lier house, but she 
always had contrived to live ladytied, 
and with that squad of gals, she could 
atlbrd to play quality." These and sim- 
ilar speeches often excited the anger of 
the "squad of gals" but grandmam', 
in her pleasant way would bid them 
' ' never to heed things beneath one's 
notice." "Recreation was necessary; 
if she chose to amuse herself in 
her garden, so long as no duty was ne- 
glected, it was no one's concern. As 
for use she considered flowers of great 
value. The Almighty had decked the 
whole universe with beauty. Who was 
not made happier and better by pretty 
surroundings ? For her part she con- 



sidered it ever}' woman's duty to make 
her home as agreeable as possible. 
She was sure her good sisters-in-law 
and the other croakers enjoyed a bunch 
of pinks or a rose, as much as any 
one, and her mints and sweet herbs 
were in great demand, especially lav- 
ender, to strew in drawers amongst 
linen." 

Sunday was the only day on which I 
preferred to be at home. Father was 
somewhat of a latitudinarian, and moth- 
er never prohil:)ited my picture books. 
Of these my town friends and an old 
lame peddler named Urin who came 
round five or six times a 3"ear, kept me 
well supplied. Old Urin was quite a 
character. He would stump in, usually 
near dusk, with a bag and basket, and 
sinking into the nearest ehair, declare 
himself " e'en a'most dead, he was so 
lame ! " Then, without stopping to take 
l)reath, he would reel off", "Tree fell on 
me when I was a bo}', lulled my broth- 
er and me jest like him, here's books, 
pins, needles, black sewing silk all col- 
ors, tapes, varses, almanacks and sar- 
mons, thread, fine thread for cam1)ric 
ruttliis, here's varses on the pirate that 
was hung on Boston Common, solemn 
varses with a border of coffins atop, 
and Noble's sarmon preached at his 
wife's funeral, the 'lection sarmon when 
the guv'ner took the chair, Jack the Pi- 
per, Whittington's Cat, Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress, Bank of Faith, The History of 
the DcAdl, and a great man}- other re- 
hgious books." We always kept the 
old man over night besides purchasing 
his wares. As I had an eager avidi- 
ty for books, the peddler's advent was 
hailed with dehght. 

At grandsir's the Lord's day was 
kept in Sabltatical strictness. Every 
vestige of the week's employment dis- 



30 



REMINISCENCES 



appeared at sundown Satin-day night, 
no book was permitted save tlie Bible, 
some pious treatise and the catechism. 
Pleasant days, when meeting was at- 
tended morning and afternoon, the daj' 
was not so tedious, but stormy ones 
were seemingty interminable. Then 
that catechism ! Though I was quick 
to learn, this was ni}' one great bug- 
bear. How I used to dread the cate- 
chising Grandsir instituted after supper. 
Sunday evenings, Uncle Joe and I Avere 
always falhng into disgrace b}' our dull- 
ness, aand unt Hannah frequently' could 
sympathze with us. Then we often un- 
wittingly broke the rules in such a way as 
to receive a reprimand. Never shall I 
forget the shame of one memorable Sun- 
day afternoon. It was very muddy ri- 
ding in the spring, and as it was incon- 
venient to take us along, Aunt Hannah, 
Uncle Joe and myself were left at home. 
We had studied the catechism, read the 
history of Joseph from the Biljle, and 
played with the cat and kittens till we 
were tired. Aunt Hannah went into 
the cellar for apples ; there she found 
some rotten warden pears which she 
brought al)ove and placed in the sink. 
Uncle Joe took his jack-knife and 
scraped out the pulp from one. "Look 
here," he cried, "see my pail, look at 
my pail!" "It needs a bail," Aunt 
Hannah returned, as she brought some 
strong, blue yarn and proceeded to tie 
it in. Joe scraped another, Aunt Han- 
nah tied in a second l)ail. Knowing I 
ought not to play, I onl}' looked on, an 
interested spectator. The spring sun 
was shining l)rightly in at the open back 
door, the well curb was near with a 
trough for watering the horses and cat- 
tle. Joe took his pails out to the plat- 
form, Aunt Hannah and I followed. 
We were so intent seeing the little boy I 



fill his novel pails, that we forgot to 
watch for the close of ser^-ices as we had 
intended, and were all caught in the 
awful crime of pla}dng on "Sabba' 
day." Such a chastisement as we re- 
ceived ! Thereafter I never staid over 
Sunda}' at grandsir's if it could be 
otherwise, and when I did stay, for years 
I scarcel}' dared to breathe. 

The wedding had been appointed for 
the last of June. Aunt Sarah, and a fa- 
mous cook, lent her assistance in ba- 
king the cake. JNIother cut the liridal 
dress, a light slate siUv gown and skirt, 
the gown was festooned at the bottom, 
the neck and the sleeves trimmed with 
lace. The bridal hat, a French beaver 
to match, was ornamented with two 
long, white ostrich plumes. Aunt Su- 
key and Aunt Hannah had new white 
mushns. cut square in the neck, and short 
sleeves ; the l)readths run the whole 
length, plaited at the l)ack, and con- 
fined at the waist by a ribbon sash, 
Grandmam's best silk, a blue and red 
changeable,' was newly trhnmed, a tas- 
t}' musHn cap constructed, and her bri- 
dal lawn half-handkerchief, richly bor- 
dered with broad, thread lace, which 
never saw the hght excepting on high, 
gala occasions, and sacrament Sundays, 
was carefully done up. 

The important day arrived. The 
house was swept and garnished, the 
parlor decorated with white and dam- 
ask roses. I wore a white mushn, and 
a blue sash, like Aunt Hannah's. Moth- 
er looked lieautifully in a white petti- 
coat and bi'own silk over dress ; Amit 
Chase wore her bridal silk, a reddish 
brown ; Uncle Bill and his affianced, 
Miss Sarah Bailey, were groomsman 
and bridesmaid, — Miss Baile}', a very 
handsome girl, looked lovel}' in a peach 
silk. As we were without a minister, 



OF A NONAGENAEIA:t^. 



31 



the Rev. True Kimball from the lower 
parish, performed the ceremou3\ The 
wine and cake passed, a merry time 
was enjoyed. 

The Bartletts, with whom the Em- 
ery's, Johnsons and Littles have inter- 
married, are of a famil}' both "Ancient 
and Honorable." Adam de Bartelot, 
a Norman knight, accompanied Wil- 
liam the Conqueror to England. After 
the conquest William granted him a 
large landed estate in Stopham, Sussex 
Co. Sir Adam de Bartelot died in 
1100. He was the progenitor of the 
Newbur}' Bartletts. The original grant 
made by William the Conqueror, with 
large additions, is still retained by the 
Bartelots of Stopham. The present 
representative of the fsimih' is Sir Wal- 
ter Bartelot, Baronet, and nieml>er of 
parliament. John and Ricliard Bar- 
tlett, who came to Newl)urv in the year 
1634, were of the Stopham famil}', be- 
ing sons of Edmund Bartelot, third 
son of AVilliam, the then heir to the es- 
tate. Another lirother. Ensign Thom- 
as Bartlett, accompanied John and 
Richard to America ; he settled in Wa- 
tertown. Josiah Bartlett purchased a 
farm in the "West Precinct" Newbury, 
his son, Josiah, married Prudence Ord- 
way, and succeeded his father on the 
estate, and, for those days, he carried 
on a very extensive shoe trade, always 
cmplo3ing a half dozen or more ap- 
prentices. These youth, for ^-ears, bore 
the designation of "Bartlett's" bo3's, 
and a merry set they usually were, up 
to all kinds of pranks ; if any tricks 
were pla3'ed, all eyes were instantly 
turned on "Bartlett's boys." The 
children of Josiah and Prudence Bart- 
lett were Josiah, Stephen, Betsej^, 
Samuel, William, John Emery, Pru- 
dence, Polly, and Theodore who died 



in infanc}'. The arms of the Bartlett 
familv are : 




pable: three sinister falconer's 

gloves proper, banded 

and tapelled ob, 

This without a crest was the family 
arms for some centuries. Near the 
close of the fifteenth centurv one of the 
present crests, a castle, was granted to 
Sir John Bartelot, avIio, in command of 
the Sussex troops, captured the castle 
of Fontenoy, in France. In the six- 
teenth centur}' a swan was added to the 
crest, to commemorate the right of 
the family to keep swans on the river 
Arun, a right granted b}' William the 
Conqueror. These were confirmed 
under the seal of William Segar, Gar- 
ter King of Arms, October 27, 1616, 
Hth 3'ear of King James, motto "Ma- 
ture." The bridegroom, Stephen Bar- 
tlett, had been in business in Newbur}-- 
port nearl}' two years. The year pre- 
vious Mr. John Peabody had moved 
thither, with Mr. Luther Waterman, 
the two gentlemen had formed a part- 
nership, known as the firm of "Pea- 
body, Waterman & Co." Their place 
of business was a store on the corner 
of State street and Market Square, 
running back to Inn street. The front 
store ou State street was devoted to dry 



32 



KEMIXISCEI^^CES 



goods, the back, entrance on Inn street, 
had a full supply of groceries, and 
boots and shoes, the latter being manu- 
factured in the chambers. Stephen 
Bartlett had purchased the house on 
State, lower corner of Temple street, 
and the wedded pair went immediately 
to housekeeping. As was natural the 
bride found herself intolerably lonesome 
in her new home, and a pressing invita- 
tation came, that I should pay her a 
visit. Mother packed m}^ things in her 
little red, wooden trunk, and I accom- 
panied father the next market day. 

I vividly remember the ride down 
High street, and father's reining in his 
steed, that I might gaze at the deer in 
the park at Mt. Rural, and at Dexter's 
images. Only a lieginning of the show 
had then been made, Washington, Ad- 
ams and the Goddess of Libert}- a- 
dorned the front entrance, and the Li- 
on and Lamb reclined on either side. 

We found Mrs. Bartlett fully estab- 
lished, everything in spick and span 
freshness. The parlor, now the site of 
Mr. Philip II. Blumpey's store, was a 
large, pleasant room, the two front win- 
dows overlooking State, the two end. 
Temple street. It was handsomely fur- 
nished, for that period, with a mahoga- 
ny desk and book-case, two mahognay 
card tables, and alight-stand to match; 
a large mirror occnpied the front }ner, 
two pictures, a marine view, and a 
landscape ornamented the wall. There 
were half a dozen dark green, wooden 
chairs, and two rockers to match. A 
Franklin stove had been set in the fire- 
place, in which glittered a highly pol- 
ished brass fire-set. There was no car- 
pet, floors had not then become gener- 
ally covered, and, if carpeted in the 
winter, they were usually bare in sum- 
mer, carpets being considered hot and 



dust}'. The best chamber was elegant 
with ga}', patch hangings to the high 
square post bedstead, and curtains of 
the same draped the windows. A toi- 
let table tastily covered with white mus- 
lin, and ornamented by blue ribljon 
bows, stood between the front windows. 
The case of drawers was handsomely 
carved, the chairs matched those below, 
and there was a novelt}', the first wash- 
stand I ever saw, a prett}- triangular 
one of mahogany, a light graceful pat- 
tern to fit into a corner of a room . The 
Other chambers, the kitchen, wash 
room, etc., were in perfect order, and 
supplied with ever}' convenience. Sev- 
eral newly invented improvements for 
housekeeping were displayed, amongst 
which was a tin rooster. Heretofore 
our meat and poultry had been leaked 
in the brick oven, or roasted on a spit, 
resting on brackets, fastened for that 
purpose to the high, iron andirons, 
common to every kitchen. Sometimes 
a turkey or goose was depended before 
the fire by a strong string hitched to a 
nail in the ceiling. At the "Wolfe 
tavern," and at the residences of some 
of the wealthier citizens, a jack turned 
by clock work had been placed in the 
wide fire-place of the spacious kitchen. 
This new "tin kitchen," Aunt Betsey 
displayed as a rare implement of great 
value to the cuhnary art. 

After dinner a ^dsit to my aunt Pea- 
body was proposed. I hesitated, and 
informed m}' aunt that mother had di- 
rected that I should not go anywhere 
until she had procured me a new bon- 
net. My aunt laughed, and replied, 
that she "thought sister Prudy did not 
expect to have town style like her sis- 
ters'. Do not look so solder, little 
sweet, I knew head-gear was needed, 
and here it is," she added, taking from 



OF A NOlSrAGENAIlIA]^. 



33 



a closet a white muslin Quaker-shaped 
bonnet trimmed with green. Of course 
I was delighted, and n\y happiness was 
enhanced b}^ the information that it 
was just like my cousin Soplii'onia's, 
and hers, of course, was in the tip-toj) 
of fashion. 

Uncle Peabod}^ had bought a house 
on Middle street. It was smaller and 
less pleasant than my aunt Bartlett's, 
but the furniture was similar. The 
curtains were white with netted fringe, 
and the parlor table was decorated 
with an elegant gilt China tea set in a 
red and gilt tray. Aunt Betsey wished 
to embroider cushions for her rockers. 
Miss Betty Bradstreet was celebrated 
for designing patterns for such work. 
Aunt Peabody, learning our intention 
of calling upon her, summoned So- 
phronia from school, and witli lier little 
daughter accompanied us. 

Humphrey Bradstreet, an elder 
brother, or kinsman, of Gov. Simon 
Bradstreet, came from Ipswich, Eng- 
land, to Ipswich, America, in the 
"Elizabeth," in 1634, aged 40, with 
his wife Bridget, aged 30, and chil- 
dren — Hannah, aged 9, John, 3, Mar- 
tlia, 2, and Mary, 1 ; had born here 
Moses, Sarah and Rebecca ; was made 
freeman May Gth, 1635 ; representa- 
tive to General Court in 1635 ; died in 
1656. 

Ilumphre}', Rowley, physician, son 
of Moses, removed to Newbury- ; there, 
b}' wife Sarah, had Dorothy, born Dec. 
19th, 1692 ; Joshua, Feb. 24th, 1695 ; 
Sarah, Jan. 16th, 1697; Humphrey, 
1700, died ^oung ; Daniel, Feb. 13tli, 
1702 ; Moses, Feb. 17th, 1707 ; andBet- 
ty. May 16th, 1713. Dr. Bradstreet 
died May 1 1th, 1717. His widow, June 



9th, 1719, married 
Arms, Bradstreet : 



Edward Sargent. 



GEEKONNY OF SIX CUI.ES ANT) OU, ON EACH 
A CRESCENT COHNTERCIIANGED. CREST 

A unicorn's uead between two 

BUNCHES OP LAUREL IN AULE. 




This is the ancient coat. The arms on 
the seal of Gov. .Simeon Bradstreet, 
born atKobling, county Lincoln, 1703, 
where his ftither Simeon was the minis- 
ter — are : 

ON A FESSE— THREE CRESCENTS— IN BASE 
A HOUND PASSENT. CKE9T A DEXTER 
ARM VAMBRACED EMBOWERED, THE 
HAND GRASPING A SWORD. 

Anne Dudley Bradstreet, Gov. Brad- 
street's first wife, was the first "Ameri- 
can female Poet," styled the tenth muse. 
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet built the 
second house erected at the water side. 
It is on Water, upper corner of Lime 
street, at present a store. His young- 
est daughter, Betty, married the Rev. 
William Johnson, and his youngest 
son, Moses, married, and inherited the 
paternal mansion. Four out of five of 
Mr. Moses Bradstreet's children, died 
within one week from the terrible 
throat distemper which, in the winter of 
1735, despoiled so many households in 
Massachusetts and New Hampshire. 
Betty, her aunt Johnson's namesake, 

5 



34 



EEMINISCENCES 



alone recovered ; liut vestiges of the 
fell disease were carried through a long 
life in impaired beauty and a weakened 
constitution. Mr. Bradstreet died in 
a few years, and Mrs. Bradstreet, up- 
on the death of her children, was 
thrown into an illness which weakened 
lier mind ; though she lived until Miss 
Betty was well advanced in age, she 
'^ould never be Ijrought to regard her 
daughter as other than a little girl. 
I have been told how touching it was 
to see the mother leading the grown 
woman up the aisle of the meeting- 
house as if she was still a child. Miss 
Bradstreet had numerous suitors, but 
till her mother's death her life was de- 
voted to her ; afterwards she declared 
herself too old for matrimony, and 
in comi)an3' with her faithful serv- 
ing maiden, Hannah Brown, slie 
lived a happy, useful and contented 
life, in the ancestral mansion, an open 
house to her relatives and frieuds, while 
they in turn were often enlivened by a 
visit from the spinster cousin, whose 
^ advent was the signal for a genuine 
festival throughout the household and 
neighborhood. To children in particu- 
lar Miss Betty constituted herself a sort 
of patron saint, receiving in return a 
love and deA^otion never to be forgotten. 
The Bradstreet mansion had been a pre- 
tentious house at the period of its erec- 
tion, and with its extensive and well 
kept garden was then a model of neat- 
ness and elegance. The windows com- 
manded as exquisite a view as can be 
found. The lieautiful Merrimac broad- 
ening to its mouth, Plum Island river 
pouring in its tributar}- waters on the 
right, oi)i)Osite the picturesque Salis- 
bury shore, terminating in its long, san- 
d}" point, the narrow outlet at the bar 
separating it from the twin point at 



Plum Island, whose length of sands, 
marshes and bushy knolls extended in- 
to the distance. The two light-houses 
on its northern extremity gleamed 
in the afternoon sun, which eradiated 
the loft}' warehouses on the wharves, 
the wherries, fishing smacks and West 
India schooners, in the river, and the 
sails of vessels near and more remote, 
dotting the waves of Massachusetts 
Bay, whose blue waters stretched afar, 
its hues mingling with those of the ho- 
rizon. 

JNIiss Bett3', a tall, prim, rather plain 
woman of sixt}', received us with great 
cordiality. Her parlor, rich in antique 
furnishings, if it could be restored, 
would now become a perfect bijou for 
an auticpiarian. Dark, highly' polished 
tables with claw feet, and high backed, 
elaborately carved chairs to match ; a 
tall, handsomely ornamented clock 
ticked in one corner ; an elegantly em- 
broidered fire-screen, with maliogany 
frame, that could be raised or lowered 
at pleasure, stood opposite. A large 
mahogany-framed mirror occupied the 
space between the front windows ; over 
the mantel, which was decorated with 
tall brass candlesticks, hung the por- 
trait of Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet, in 
a red coat, buff vest, white wig, ruf- 
fled shirt, and delicate ruffles at the 
wrist, the right hand grasping a lancet. 
The walls were further ornamented by 
paintings and embroidered pictures, 
specimens of the taste and skill of the 
mistress of the house. The screen, 
the wrought seats of the chairs, and 
various other knick-knacks scattered 
about the room, were also the handi- 
work of the ingenious and industrious 
maiden. 

Our hostess invited us into the gar- 
den, wliicli was gay with a profusion of 



OF A NONAGENAEIAK. 



35 



old-fashioned flowers, besides fruit and 
vegetables. Eaeli having l)een sup- 
plied with a "bunch of posies," we 
took our leave. A pressing invitation 
"to sta}- to tea," had been givhn, but 
Uncle Bartlett was to join his wife and 
mvself at Uncle Peabodv's, so the visit 
was postponed until the cushion covers 
were drawn. 

As we returned, my aunts spoke of 
the terrible distemper, that brought 
such sorrow to the Bratdstreet mansion, 
as well as to so man}^ other New Eng- 
land homes. Aunt Peabody inquired 
"if Aunt Bartlett had ever heard of 
the warning given to Mrs. Stephen 
Jaques prior to her grand-children's de- 
cease ? " Aunt Betsey answered in the 
negative, and inquired what it was. 
"Mrs. Jaques went to a chamber, the 
door of which was locked, to get some 
candles that Avere in a bushel measure 
under the bed. She took out the can- 
dles, laid them on the lied, and pushed 
the measure l)ack ; as she lifted the quilt, 
she saw a child's hand and an arm cov- 
ered witha striped sleeve. She pulled 
down the bed clothes, and searched the 
chamber, but no child was there. In a 
few days her son's children were taken 
Avith the throat distemper. OnThursda}', 
just a fortnight from the time she saw the 
apparition, Stephen's son, Henrj' , died ; 
the next Thursday, Ebenezer died, and 
the next Monday his oldest son Stephen, 
died. "I do not know what to think 
of such things," Aunt Betsey thought- 
fully returned, "3-ou often hear of oc- 
currences that are termed supernatural 
in times of sickness and distress. " I 
did not know what to think of the sto- 
ry, either. On whispering an incjuiry 
to my cousin, she exclaimed, "Ugh! 
Don't talk of it, I beg ! I shall lie a- 
wake all night." I said no more, but 



the story haunted my imagination. As 
soon as I shut niA' eyes of a night, that 
tiny hand and striped sleeve would pre- 
sent itself, and every time I lifted a 
quilt it })rotruded from beneath. I can- 
not say that I was afraid, but it was a 
long while ere I lost the vision. 

Aunt Peabody told Sophronia she 
and I might go to the store, and hurr}^ 
her father and uncle home. I had nev- 
er visited an establishment of the kind, 
and I doubt, now, if even Stewart's would 
appear more spacious and elegant. So- 
phronia went behind the counter and 
measuring off two yards of pink satin 
ribbon, presented me with half of it ; 
I demurred as to the propriety of 
this proceeding. Mr. Waterman, 
who was in the front store, told 
me to take the rilibon, but I was not 
satisfied until I had informed my uncle 
Peabody, whom I found in the back 
store. He said "Yes, Fronie and I 
were welcome to the ribl)on ; I am glad 
to see my little girl generous to her 
friends." After regaling us on raisins, 
he led the way back to the front divi- 
sion, and taking down a box of spangled 
gauze fans, he bade us each choose one. 
Sophronia took a buff ornamented in 
silver. I chose blue and gold. Uncle 
Bartlett came from the shoe manufac- 
tory, and invited us up stairs, where he 
fitted both with a pair of purple kid 
slippers. Very happy and grateful, we 
accompanied the gentlemen home to 
tea. How vividly the}' rise in remem- 
brance. Gen. Peabody, tall, preposses- 
sing, with a noble figure and courtly 
liearing, his pleasant face irradiated by 
smiles as he familiarly chatted with 
"his little girl." Col. Bartlett of a 
slighter mould, lithe and active, taci- 
turn and grave, excepting on occasions, 
when the serious black eye would twin- 



86 



REMINISCENCES 



kle, as the thin, firmly cut lips ga\c ut- 
terance to some witticism, or droll- 
ery, in a mirth-evoking manner wholly 
his own. 

After supper, Cai)t. Moses Brown, 
whose premises adjoined my uncle's, 
came in to invite the family to visit the 
ship of war Merrimac, a vessel the 
town had built and presented to the 
general government. It had been con- 
structed in an incredibly short period 
of time, and was the great focus of at- 
traction to the people of that vicinity. 
Capt. Brown was to command the 
ship, which, then lay, nearly ready for 
sea, just back of what is now the City 
railroad depot. 

As there was quite a part}' of ladies 
and gentlemen. Aunt Peabody thought 
Sophronia and I had better go another 
time. My cousin went to the next 
house, and returned accompanied by 
a boy and girl, whom she introduced as 
my cousins, John and Lydia Kettell. 
We seated ourselves upon the front 
door step for a while, then my cousin 
proposed a run over to the meeting- 
house. It was a warm, moonlight eve- 
ning ; what is now Market squai-e was 
soon reached. A large, unpainted 
building, its heaven-pointing spire, 
white in the moonbeams rose before us. 
This, the third Church of Newbur}- and 
the first of Newburyport, stood where 
the city pump is now located. Having 
run about the meeting-house for awhile, 
we mounted the steps, and sat down to 
'enjoy the evening, and the moonlight, 
talking the meanwhile as children talk. 

The next day Uncle Peabody took 
us to see the ship, and Mary Smith, a 
connexion of my uncle's, who resided 
in his family, invited us to accompany 
her, in the afternoon, to visit a famous 
jiew house then in process of erection 



on the ridge on High street. Its build- 
er was a Major Shaw. This gentleman 
failed, and moved from the place ere 
the edifice was completed. It was pur- 
chased and finished, after a while, b}- 
Captain Elias Hunt. The following 
morning I went to school with my 
cousin. She attended a private school 
keptb}' "Mann Emerson," a very good, 
stout old lad}', who taught reading, 
spelling, the catechism and plain sew- 
ing to a flock of the neighboring little 
ones. In the afternoon Aunt Bartlett 
took me to call on my father's uncle, 
Mr. Richard Smith, and at the resi- 
dences of the two brothers of my grand- 
mother Little, Mr. Daniel and Mr. Brad- 
street Johnson ; she also called on her 
cousins, Coombs and Wheelwright. On 
Saturday I returned home, having en- 
joyed a most pleasant week. Every- 
where I had been welcomed and petted, 
and I took back an enlargement of 
ideas, that greatly edified and amused 
the family, with an enhancement of im- 
portance in the eyes of my countrj^ 
mates, which produced a deference due 
to one cognizant of town elegance and 
polish. 

A short time after this visit the yel- 
low fever, l)rought from the West In- 
dies, broke out in Newburyport. From 
the first few cases it rapidly grew to an 
appalling epidemic ; over forty persons 
died from the disease, amongst them, 
Doctor Swett, one of the first i»hysi- 
cians. Fear and consternation seized 
the population. Few from abroad ven- 
tured into the place, which, as the fev^r 
increased, became completely panic- 
stricken. Many hurried away ; others 
shut themselves in their houses. Busi- 
ness and pleasure were alike suspend- 
ed. A pall seemed stretched over the 
sunimer sky, and death appeared borne 



OF A NONAGENAEIAN. 



37 



upon its soft breezes. Eopes Avore 
drawn across Water and other streets, 
barring off' tlie infected district. It 
was difflcnlt to obtain attendants for 
tlie sick ; and the dead, witliont funeral 
rites, in tarred sheets and pine coffins, 
were, at midnight, carried to the grave 
in a rude vehicle constructed for the 
purpose of rough boards. Thus, nn- 
shrined, unknelled, in all haste, the 
corpse w^as covered from sight, and a 
new mound, that for a time every 
one would shun, rose on the old bury- 
ing hill. 

When the fever first appeared, before 
its pi-esence was really known, my nn- 
cle Peabodj's family received a fright, 
which happily brought no evil conse- 
quences. The eldest daughter, when 
returning from school, was informed, 
by a little acquaintance, that a dead 
man lay in the house they were passing. 
"Come in and look at him," she said 
to Sophronia, "he looks real funny. 
He is just as yellow as saffron." The 
corpse was laid ont ready for burial, in 
one of the front rooms. The front 
door was open, and people were passing 
in and out. Childlike, Fronie peeped 
in, then tiptoed forward. Sure enough, 
the dead man's face was of a deep yel- 
low. At dinner she mentioned the in- 
cident, in(j[uiring what could have made 
the corpse so 3'ellow. Her mother 
could not imagine, but ni}' imcle, who 
had heard a rumor that there had, been 
cases of yellow fever in the place, too 
truly divined the matter. Every pre- 
caution was instantl}^ taken ; Fronie 
was kept from school, but none of our 
relatives took the fever. Aunt Bartlett 
was suddenly and violently seized with 
a bilious attack, to which she was sub- 
ject. The family were alarmed, and 
Cxrandmother Little was smmnoued, 



but she was quickly relieved. The 
neighborhood was greatly fi-ightened, 
and the morning after grandmam's ar- 
rival ,what was^her horror, as she drew 
aside the curtain in the early dawn, to 
descrj' the dread dead-cart drawn up 
before the back door, awaiting what 
was supposed to be another victim to 
the pestilence. She lost no time in 
sending it away, but it was hours be- 
fore she recovered from the shock the 
fell sight had given, and I never heard 
her recount the incident without a shud- 
der. Frost subdued the plague. The 
fever entirely vanished, and the "Port" 
gradually resumed its wonted life and 
appearance. 



CHAPTER X. 

The following spring I was prostrat- 
ed by an illness, the vestiges of which 
have remained through a long life. My 
head began to ache, Friday, in school. 
Master Stephen Longfellow was the 
teacher. Contrary to my inclination 
he sent me home. Mother administered 
camplior, I retired early, and the next 
morning thought myself avcU enough to 
attend school. I loved study, and it 
w'as a disappointment to lose a session. 
Though not feeling strong, I managed 
to go through the morning creditably. 
It was the latter part of March ; the 
road was sloppy, the walking tiresome. 
Just as I reached the lane leading to 
the house, I was seized with a terrible 
pain in my right knee. Unable to walk 
another step, I sank upon a stone by 
the roadside. My little brother, who 
was my companion, much frightened, 
ran for mother ; she and Aunt Sarah 



38 



REMINISCENCES 



bore me home. Mother bathed the 
limb, and I was kept warm and dosed 
for a cold. The next morning, I was 
so comfortable, it was not deemed 
necessary that mother should remain 
from meeting, and I was left with ni}- 
brother. A short time after the others 
had gone, Jim ran in, witli the informa- 
tion that the pigs were out of the pen. 
"They are rooting all over the garden, 
Sallie. AVhat shall I do? I can't get 
them back into the pen alone. The}' 
will spoil tlie garden ; they have rooted 
up one bunch of dathes a'read}'." Look- 
ing from the window, I saw that the 
little boy was right. The porkers were 
making sad havoc. I hesitated about 
venturing forth, but at length decided 
to go. Putting on my thick boots and 
wrai)[)ing myself up, we sallied forth, 
antl, after a while, managed to get the 
obstinate animals penned. I was much 
exhausted by the effort, and when the 
family came back they found me in a 
raging fever, stiff, and in pain. Doctor 
Poore was brought. The worthy doc- 
tor examined the case, took a long 
pinch of snuff, and tlien pronounced it 
rlieumatic fe\er. Blisters were applied, 
and tlie usual remedies given, but I suf- 
fered fearfull}'. It was three or four 
weeks ere I could move, and as many 
more Ijefore I could sit up or step. 
Months passed, and still I remained an 
invalid. Autumn l)rought somewhat 
of the old vigor, but 1 was obliged to 
be very careful, and could bear no fa- 
tigue nor exposure for a long time. 
Relatives and friends were most kind 
in their ministration during this sick- 
ness, and at m}^ convalescence every 
means was used for solace and amuse- 
ment. It was a perfect boon to be able 
to read and sew.' Pilgrim's Progress 
and The Arabian Nights were abso- 



lutel}' devoured. Opportunel}', Miss 
Betty Bradstreet paid one of her much 
prized visits. She devised many sourc- 
es of relaxation from the dullness of a 
sick-room. I still have an embroidered 
pocket, the pattern of which she de- 
signed and drew. 

IMother was alwa^'s hurried, and, as 
I grew stronger, I felt it a duty to as- 
sist her ; but after I had sewed my 
seam or knit my stint, I would steal up 
to Aunt Sarah's chamber, to read, or 
work upon the border of a skirt which 
Aunt Sarali, who had a universal gen- 
ius, had drawn : a lovel}' vine of roses 
and leaves. I feared mother would 
consider this too much of a tax upon 
ni}' health, so the work was carried on 
surreptitiously for several weeks. At 
length it was completed and exhibited 
in triumph. The flower garden be- 
came a source of gratification, and as 
soon as possible I hmpjed over to our 
next neighbor's. Mrs. Thurrill was my 
mother's aunt, m}' grandfather Little's 
sister, but her youngest son was only 
one year ni}- elder ; from infancy we 
were playmates. My little brother 
used to run, in shouting, " Here's Bill 
Thuddle, Sallie; Bill Thuddle has 
come to help you over to his house." 
Mother would put on my things, and 
with Bill's and Jim's assistance I would 
manage to cross the foot-path through 
the mowing lot, and clinil) the stile in 
the stone wall that divided the two 
farms. Aunt Thurrill was always " so 
glad to see her leetle gal ; she was get- 
ting smart, yes indeed real spry !" 
Then the company loaf of pound cake 
would be cut and a glass of metheghn 
presented. Though she would tell the 
lioys to go to the cupboard and get 
something to eat, that doughnuts and 
apple pie, and sweetened cider and wa- 



OF A NONAGENAKIAN. 



39 



ter were good enough for hearty boj's, 
the urchins never failed to receive a hit 
of cake and a sip of the honey wine. 
After I had rested I would crawl up to 
the spinning room to gossip awhile 
with Jenny Wheeler. Aunt kept a 
hired girl through the year. In the 
summer she helped in the dairy and 
housework, but her chief employment 
was spinning. 

Uncle Thurrill kept a large flock of 
sheep. In the winter he fatted weth- 
ers, which he slaughtered and <»narket- 
ed ; the fleeces the maid spun into 
yarn which the old gentleman (he was 
a weaver by trade) wove into cloth, 
which met with a readj' sale. After a 
hard day's work out of doors, it was no 
infrequent thing to hear his loom till 
twelve or one o'clock at night. lie 
was also abstemious in food, rarely 
eating meat. There was usually a loaf 
of brown lirea(4, a cut cheese and a 
pan of milk in the chimney corner ; 
these were his staple viands. Still he 
was a healthy, strong man, never own- 
ing to fatigue. Besides the sheep, he 
butchered and sold a large numl)er of 
swine. The first families at the "•Port" 
regularly sought aunt's lard and sausa- 
ges ; and uncle's pork was in great de- 
mand, lie was also a great orchard- 
ist. The best varieties of apple, such 
as the "Baldwin" and "Russet," 
were then just becoming known. The 
' ' Baldwin " in that region was then 
called the "Hooper," from its having 
l)een introduced by- Squire Stephen 
Hooper, the owner of an elegant coun- 
ti-y seat on the main road. M}^ father 
also took great pains to procure the 
l)est fruit for his thrifty, young orchard. 
I have spent many hours helping him 
gi-aft. 

Amongst our near neiahbors was a 



somewhat unique family. Their name 
was Dole and they lived at the foot of 
the hill. There were three brothers 
and four sisters, all unmarried, and, as 
is often the case witli single people, all 
seven were alwaj's addressed by the 
affectionate appellation of uncle and 
aunt. Uncle Amos and David tilled 
the paternal acres ; Uncle Moses, a 
blacksmith, carried on his trade in a 
shop l)v the roadside, opposite the 
dwelling. He Ijoarded with his broth- 
ers, paying them the enormous price 
of one dollar per week. Aunts Jemi- 
ma, Eunice and Jud}' attended to the 
house and dairy, receiving their living, 
as hi their parents' life-time. Aunt 
Sus}', an invalid, was cared for and 
petted by all. This family, especiall}' 
Aunt Judy, had been unusually kind 
during my illness, and they were solic- 
itous tliat I should take tea with them. 
As soon as I was able to walk so far, 
Aunt Sarah took me down. The house, 
large and commodious, stood a little 
back from and end to road ; a path led 
up to a door which opened directly into 
the kitchen or living room. The front 
commanded a pleasant view of Dole's 
pond, and a wide stretch of meadow 
and forest, tlie Clark homestead, 
peeping through the woods, being the 
only house in sight. AYe were received 
with great cordiality, and seated in the 
large, cool room to rest. This apart- 
ment had the usual huge fire-place, 
long dressers, heavy table and flag- 
bottomed chairs. After awhile we were 
invited into Aunt Sus^-'s room at the 
back of the house. The invalid was 
seated in a chair covered by a coverlet, 
and the room was hot and oppressive. 
I was glad to accompany aunt Jud}' 
when she went out to Iiegin prepara- 
tions for tea, which were a source ol 



40 



KEMEN'ISCEIS'CES 



great entertainment. The good woman 
moulded a i)an of short cake, which 
she rolled out and placed on six pewter 
plates ; placing the long iron oven shov- 
el across the andirons, the six plates 
were deposited before the fire. I dis- 
tinctly recollect the interest I felt in 
watching the bannocks ; seeing Aunt 
Jud}' turn them, and, when done, split 
and Ijutter them. They were very light 
and nice, and eaten with stewed straw- 
berries they tasted deliciously. The 
three uncles came in to tea ; uncle 
said a lengthy grace, then we all did 
justice to the viands. I greatly enjoy- 
ed my visit, and on my return made 
the household laugh heartil}' with the 
description of aunt Judy's six Johnny 
cakes. 

That summer our neighbors, the 
Pillsburys, put up a new house. It was 
raised in June. This brought a festi- 
val. A sumptuous entertainment was 
provided. Aunt Sai'ali lent her assist- 
ance, and the whole neighborhood were 
on the qui vive for several days. On 
the afternoon appointed most of the 
parish, and visitors from the vicinity, 
thronged to the place. The stout tim- 
bers of the sturdy roof were reared 
with the usual ceremonies, christened 
with prime Santa Cruz, then the re- 
freshments were spread. Jollity and 
sport sped the hours till sun-down, 
when the crowd dispersed. Notwith- 
standing every precaution I took cold, 
and the next morning could not walk 
one step. Great was my anguish, but 
nursing and care soon brought the use 
of my limbs. When I could walk I 
was iiivited to spend the day at great- 
uncle John Little's. Ilis farm lay be- 
low, a little farther down the hill. The 
house, which commanded a pleasant 
view, stood back from the road, a 



thrifty orchard extending in front. 
The two sons and the only daughter 
had been married several j-ears, and 
the family consisted of only uncle, 
aunt and a hired man. I always en- 
joyed a visit to this quiet domicile. 
After diiuier Ruth laughingly said, 
"seeing she had distinguished company 
her weaving should be set aside." Put- 
ting on her brightly flowered chintz 
she took her knitting and called me to 
join her in the cosy back parlor. We 
had scarcely become seated when her 
grandson, David Emery, and his step- 
brother, Jeremiah Colman, galloped up 
the lane on two mettled studs. Spring- 
ing from the saddle the two youth, lads 
of twelve and fifteen, entered with the 
information that their father, mother 
and younger brother were just behind. 

Betty Little, at the age of nineteen, 
had married David Emery. This 
young man, with his lir-other Ephraim, 
left orphans when mere boys, were 
heirs to a considerable property. They 
were still young when the Revolution- 
ary war commenced. At the return of 
the '''six months men," called out after 
the battle of Bunker Hill, another sum- 
mons for troops came. The militia 
were drawn up on the training field ; a 
draft was about to be made, when out 
stepped young David Emery and vol- 
unteered his services. His example 
was instantly followed, and the quota 
was obtained without a dr^ft. His 
older brother, Ephraim, fired with mili- 
tary ardor, also entered the army, in 
the capacity of fifer, returning, at the 
dislianding of the officers at the end of 
the war, with a captain's commission. 
He afterwards reentered the army with 
the rank of major, and died at an ad- 
vanced age, in the enjoyment of a lib- 
eral pension. He was one of the found- 



OF A NON'AGEN^ARIA^. 



41 



ers of the Society of Cincinnati. His 
commissions from the records of that 
Society arc : ensign in Wigglesworth's, 
afterwards C. Smith's, thirteenth regi- 
ment in 1777 ; and served in Snllivan's 
R. I. company in 1779, commanding 
lientenant and pa^^master, April 10th, 
1779 ; in Tupper's sixth regiment in 
1783. 

David was with the army till after tlie 
hattle of Brooklyn. His time of ser- 
vice having expired, he retnrned home. 
His heahh, wliich had never lieen 
good, had become mncli impaired, and 
it was not deemed prndent that he 
shonld again assume tlie life of a sol- 
dier. His marriage with Betty Little 
soon followed, but consumption had 
marked him for a victim. Ere a year 
had sped, and two montlis prior to the 
birth of his son, he passed away, Octo- 
l)er 21st, 1785, at the early age of twen- 
ty-two. Though short, as we count 
time, his life was long, in gallant acts 
and nolile deeds. Few, even of those 
whose 3'ears number the allotted thiee 
score and ten, could give a better rec- 
ord, and his name has been handed 
down through the succeeding genera- 
tions in atl'ectionate remembrance. 

Two years after her husband's death 
tlie widow Emery contracted a second 
marriage, with Mr. Moses Colman, of 
Byfield. Mr. Colman, a widower with 
one little boy five j'ears old, at the time 
of his second marriage, owned and re- 
sided on a farm, delightfull}' located 
near Dummer Academy. He also car- 
ried on a large butchering business. 
For years the mar]i:et at the Port was 
largel}' supplied from his slaughter- 
house. The year after this second 
marriage a third son, Daniel Colman, 
was born. 



6 



David Emery had passed much of his 
childhood at liis grandmother Little's. 
I had known him from infancy. His 
mother and mine, as girls, had been es- 
l)ecially intimate cousins. Her Utile 
son had been my jilaymate at home and 
companion at school. We had often 
sat upon the same form and read from 
the same l)ook. Our greeting was that 
of close friends; but the lifteen-year- 
old Jerry insi)i]-i'd me witli much awe. 
David took dov,n the old king's-arm 
from the brackets where it hung, over 
the latclien fireplace, and, getting the 
powder horn and shot bag, told his 
grandmother that he was "going into 
the pasture to shoot that woodchuck 
that was plaguing grandsir ; when 
Daniel comes send him along." Call- 
ing to Jerry, who had been stal)ling 
the horses, the two went whistling mer- 
rily over the hill. The chaise soon ap- 
peared, turning up the lane, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Colman, Daniel seated be- 
tween them, drove to the door. Mrs. 
Colman came in, Daniel ran after his 
brothers, and Mr. Colman, turning his 
horse, after a moment's chat with Aunt 
Little, drove away. He was one of the 
overseers of the poor, and had business 
to transact in our part of the town. 

Mrs. Colman desired to call at my 
grandmother Little's, and I accompa- 
nied her. After Air. Colman's return, 
David came to take us back in the 
chaise. He had killed the woodchuck, 
and was in high spirits. We found the 
other boys jubilant over the afternoon's 
work. They had assisted in unearth- 
ing the prey ; and David had also shot 
an enormous hen hawk on the wing. 
His grandparents, though affectionatel}' 
attentive to the other boys, were evi- 
dently exceedingl}' proud of " llieir 



42 



llEMmiSCENCES 



bo}'," and his mother, with sparkling 
eyes, said : "lie's a chip of the old 
block." 

Mr. Colman, a stont, handsome, joll}' 
man, posted me, mnch to mj' chagrin 
(for I was beginning to assume young 
lady airs), upon his knee, and, with a 
hearty kiss, pronounced me a beaut}', a 
perfect black- eyed queen, and said that 
I should some day be David's little 
wife. " Now don't blush and squirm, 
m}- pretty, but expound this riddle : 
M}^ wife has two sons, and I have two 
sons, and there are onh' three in the 
whole." I was as much mystified as a 
great many other people I have since 
seen at this favorite enigma, which 
the old gentleman, to the end of a long 
life, never failed to propound to stran- 
gers, alwa^'s ending the explanation 
with: "and we mixed 'em all up like 
hasty pudding ; never knew an}' differ- 
ence, the}' are all mine and all hers." 
This was true, and no three brothers 
could have lieen more attached to each 
other ; and, in after years, Colonel Jer- 
emiah Colman was as fond of repeat- 
ing the family riddle as his father had 
been. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Six years had elapsed ; still our par- 
ish was destitute of a pastor. Numer- 
ous had been the candidates, but a call 
had been extended to onl}' a few. 
Amongst these favored ones had been 
the Rev. Abraham Moore, and the Rev. 
Daniel Dana, but those gentlemen had 
accepted other invitations. The fourth 
parish, adhering to the teachings of 
Parson Johnson and Dr. Toppan, for 



several years leaned strong!}' to the an- 
cient faith, but the new and somewhat 
popular idea crept into the congrega- 
tion, and doctrines began to be promul- 
gated and received, which the fathers 
would have vehemently denounced . A 
young candidate by the name of Clark, 
caused a great sensation. Some ac- 
cepted his views with enthusiasm, while 
others denounced his words as a sacri- 
lege to the pulpit, which had been so 
ably filled. I well remember a call 
this clergyman made on us. A tall, 
pale, light-haired man, with homely 
features, and a rigid, austere air, his ap- 
pearance was most unprepossessing, es- 
pecially to children. I had been a fa- 
vorite with Parson Toppan, and unlike 
so man}- children at that day, never 
dreamed of feeling awe or fear in the 
presence of the minister ; but Mr. 
Clark's manner was so restrained and 
frigid, there was such an assumption of 
sanctity, that I instinctively drew aside, 
and quietly stole into my low chair in 
the corner of the room, while my little 
brother crouched on his stool beside 
mother, hiding his head under her apron. 
The clergyman seated himself in the 
arm chair mother otfered, and after 
hesitating, hennning and hawing, in- 
quired "if she was the late Parson 
Johnson's granddaughter?" Having 
lieen answered in the affirmative, 
with an accession of sanctimony, he 
asked, "if she held to his tenets?" 
The good woman was too much occu- 
pied, with her dairy and her family, to 
trouble her head much al)Out doctrines, 
but father was a staunch supporter of 
the old creed, and somewhat timidly, 
but witli decided firmness, she rephed, 
' ' that she had never seen cause to de- 
part from tlie teachings in which she 
had been reared." Our visitor, hunnned. 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



43 



hawed, drew his fingers through liis 
lanli, white hair, then wheeling round 
facing my poor, trembling, little self, 
he abruptl3" asked, " Child, where 
would you go if you were to die ? " I 
could have truthfully told him, I did not 
know, l)ut my tongue was palsied, I 
quaked all over with terror. In a still 
more severe tone he continued, "Child, 
do you know the catechism?" I man- 
aged to enunciate, "Yes, sir." " Then 
3'ou know that, as a child of Adam, 3'ou 
were born totally' depraved, and unless 
you are born again in Christ you must 
be eternally damned. There are many 
little children in hell, ves, children as 
3-oung as 3-ou, sutl'ering ficr3' torments." 
I do not know what farther he might 
have said, for with an hysterical scream 
I sprang to 013^ feet, and mother led me 
from the room, leaving grandmam, who 
was deaf as a post, to do the parting 
ceremonies. Father upon learning of 
the afternoon's occurrence, was posi- 
tivel3' furious, and he neither went him- 
self nor permitted any of the family 
to attend divine service through Mr. 
Clark's ministration. The summer of 
1798 the Rev. Leonard AVoods came to 
preach, and after considerable disagree- 
ment and hesitation, a call to the can- 
didate was given and accepted, the cer- 
emony of ordination being fixed for the 
fifth of December. From the first Sun- 
day my father had not been exactly 
pleased with the new preacher, and as 
the weeks passed this distrust and dis- 
satisfaction increased. These senti- 
ments were shared by a respectable mi- 
nority, but with the true democratic 
spirit, they gracefulh" yielded to the will 
of the majorit3^, ^'ic^ the preparations 
for the ordination were commenced with 
the accustomed hospitable bouutiful- 



ness. A few families, zealous for the 
ancient regime, declaring the pastor 
elect "a wolf in sheep's clothing, at 
heart a true blue Hopkinsian," de- 
clined to open their houses, or take any 
part in the festivities or solemnities. 
Amongst these were m3^ father, the 
Doles and Master Chase. Aunt Ruth 
Little was one of Parson Wood's most 
enthusiastic supporters. She devoted 
a whole evening to the vain task of 
bringing my father to a coincidence in 
her views. Her rhetoric was complete- 
I3' wasted, and, quite angiy, she re- 
turned home, to wonder at "that obsti- 
nate Jim Smith. He was a real Jacob- 
ite infidel. Prnd3^ was to be pitied ; a 
minister's granddarter, too ; it was scan- 
dalous ! " Her preparations for the or- 
dination were upon the grandest scale. 
Mrs. Colman came to assist two or 
three da3'S prior to it, and quiet Uncle 
John was stirred up into an unusual in- 
terest and activit3'. The best of viands 
were procured, the case bottles replen- 
ished with choice liquors, and a good 
supply of New England rum provided 
for the refreshment of the more humble 
class of visitors. Grandmother Little 
had ever3'tliing in readiness for the ex- 
ercise of due ho.spitalit3% but there was 
no fuss nor parade. Deacon Tenney, a 
dignitar3' of the church, of course, was 
obliged to keep open house. Aunt Sa- 
rah went to help her sister. Our house- 
hold were habituall3' in readiness for 
compan3', as, living on 'the old family 
homestead, we were any day liable to 
unexpected guests. Our Thanlisgiving 
mince pies and plum cake were fresh ; 
there were plent3' of pickles, apple- 
sauce and preserves ; but mother quiet- 
I3' baked an oven full of pumpkin and 
apple pies and fried a large batch of 



44 



KEMmiSCENCES 



company doughnuts, Avhile a nice sir- 
loin of l)eef was as quietly reserved for 
tLe important occasion. 

The anticipated fiftli of December 
arrived, — a terribly cold, blustering 
day. The snow, which had recently 
fallen to a considerable depth, filled 
the air, blindijig both man and beast, 
and. blocking the roads in such a man- 
ner that ox teams were kept going to 
and fro to keep them passable. Father 
did have the grace to break a path 
through our lane in the morning, and 
mother roasted the beef and baked a 
plum pudding, but we had onl^- one 
visitor. Mr. Reuben Pearson, of By- 
field, managed to wade through the 
snow on horseback, but it blew into 
the avenue as fast as it was cleared, 
and at night it was level with the l)Oun- 
dary walls. In the evening David 
Emery iind William Thurrill came in 
on snow-shoes. Uncle Thurrill's only 
daughter married Mr. Jonathan Sniith, 
of Haverhill. Mr. and JNIrs. Smitli 
and several friends had come to her 
father's the night i)rcvious upon their 
return from the services at noon ; 
they found the lane leading to the 
house impassable, and were ol)liged to 
sit in tlie sleigh until a })ath was clear- 
ed. The}' were snow-bound, and com- 
pelled to remain oxav another night. 
David Emer^- gave a graphic descrip- 
tion of the ceremonies at the church. 
Every one was nearly frozen in the icy 
building, warmed at that period by 
nothing larger than the tin foot-stoves, 
Avith which most of the women were 
supi)lied. The wind whistled and 
howled as it swe[)t o\er the summit of 
the lofty hill, rattling the loose win- 
dows and screeching amid tlie stout 
rafters of the ancient pile. The lad 
had called on Master Chase, That ec- 



centric gentleman, liaAing liuilt a tre- 
mendous fire in the sitting-room, donn- 
ed hat and overcoat, mutUing liimself 
to the eves in a huge red bandanna, 
and drawing on a pair of striped yarn 
mittens, he mounted guard in the en- 
try, pacing back and forth in a silence 
which was onl}' broken to inform in- 
comers, of which, as it was the old 
parsonage, and so near the meeting- 
house there were man}', " that they 
could warm themselves, but nothing 
more." David was immensel}' tickled 
with the queer oddity. " Oh, you 
ought to have seen him, Mr. vSmith, so 
grim and glum, but he did pinch my 
ear, saying that I was my father's own 
son, — I must come and see him some 
other day." The youth was not just 
pleased at the doings at his grand- 
father's. '' Such a crowd ! The house 
had been tlu-onged ; he would not have 
entertained such a gang. The horses 
had eaten more than half a ton of the 
l)cst Phiglisli hay ; the pantry was emp- 
ty, the li(iuor case ditto, and those Dog- 
towners had drank a gallon of new 
rum, and noltody knew how much 
eider — he drew till he wouldn't draw 
any more. He thought grandsir had 
not enjoyed the day, l)ut grandmam 
said we could not sulllciently rejoice 
that such a blessed man was settled 
over us." 

As father and others had predicted, 
the ordination over, a new order of 
things began to be initiated. During 
the winter it had been customary for 
the middle-aged and elderly people to 
gather at social teas, after which the 
hours were enlivened by a game of 
checkers, backgammon or cards ; and 
the young people held evening parties, 
where the youth and maidens tripped 
on "the light fantastic toe" to a tune 



OP A NONAGENARIAN^. 



45 



hummed liy themselves, or, if any of 
the number chanced to l)e musical, to 
the notes of a fife or fiute. Once or 
twice in the season a ball, o\qy which 
Fiddler Bailey from the "Port" pre- 
sided, was held in a hall on the main 
road. The new pastor soon announced 
his condemnation of this innocent gaie- 
ty. A series of sermons was preached 
which prett}' etfectually stopped danc- 
ing and card playing ; if either were 
enjo^'ed it was surreptitiously, but, how- 
ever on the sly, somehow the malprac- 
tice never escaped the minister's knowl- 
edge. Fearing "spies from the ene- 
mies' camp," other recreations amongst 
the younger })eople were substituted — 
romping, games and forfeits — which 
even Parson Woods must have admitted 
were no impi'ovement over the decorous 
contra dance. The same might have 
been queried respecting their elders, 
when, in lieu of their former round 
game of cards, their only anuisement 
became the discussion of politics, and 
the scandal of the town and vicinity. 
Amongst the pastor's favorites, social 
visiting ga\e place to a course of even- 
ing meetings, which were held at the 
several school-houses. While many 
Avere enthusiastic in praise of these ser- 
vices, they were disapproved by the 
opposition and the more elderly people. 
The Sabbath ministrations and the 
Thursday lecture had hitherto sutBced ; 
the}' had no faith in these new inven- 
tions. "More than half went jest to 
pass away the time and pick up the 
news ; as for the 3'oung folks, it was a 
nice place to see the gals, and to pick 
up a beau ; they guessed there would 
be as much courting as godliness." 

In the spring another incident caused 
greater disagreement. During former 
pastorates every child presented for 



the rite had l^een admitted to baptism. 
It began to be whispered that Parson 
Woods intended to set aside the "half- 
way covenant," and baptize only the 
ottspring of church members. A niece 
of aunt Sara Noyes (recently married) 
and her husband had come to reside 
with and take care of the old lad}- and 
her farm. In March a son was l)orn to 
this couple, which Aunt Sara desired 
christened. As neither Mr. nor Mrs. 
George were communicants, she thought 
it proper to ascertain the clergyman's 
sentiments. Without hesitation, he 
promised to baptize the infant : " It was 
too cold to take out such a 3'Oung balje ; 
when the weather grew milder he would 
arrange for the ceremony," But Sun- 
day after Sunday passed ; the minis- 
ter could never be made to appoint a 
day for the rite, some excuse was al- 
ways ready, till at length it became un- 
derstood that thenceforth only church 
members would lie permitted to present 
their children at the baptismal font. 
Aunt Sara was excessively indignant ! 
The great-granddaughter 'of the Rev. 
James Noyes ; the daugliter of the for- 
mer senior deacon (one next in dignity 
to the pastor) , and herself one who at 
all times had been most active, not only 
in the families of the clergymen, Ijut 
tlu'oughout the parish, whenever her 
services or money could promote the 
good of the church, Aunt Sara had 
come to be regarded, and I think, also 
(though she would have disclaimed my 
assertion), to look upon herself some- 
what in the light of a lady elect. A 
slight to such a [)erson could not remain 
unnoticed. Many were really grieved 
at this change in the baptismal ordi- 
nance ; others were angry at what they 
considered duplicity ; many remarked 
that it was " the cuhning, the ma- 



46 



REMINISCENCES 



uoL'uvciing, that excited ire and aver- 
sion. The pastor's manner was so ar- 
bitrary and domineering that tlie}' mnst 
regard it as positively insolent. He 
ought to be taught that he was not a 
pope to head a hierarchy, but simply a 
preacher chosen to minister to a con- 
gregational society." Several, refusing- 
longer to listen to his teaching, left the 
society for other parishes ; while some, 
Aunt Sara and Master Chase were of 
the numl)er, passed the day in private 
de Amotion at home. Sometimes the 
Master joined Miss No^'es, to read 
aloud a sermon he had written. The 
Master was proud of his sermons. In 
his A^cinity dwelt another family, of 
bachelors and maids, bj^ the name of 
Hills — two 1>rothers and four sisters. 
The good women were fond of inviting 
the master in of an evening, to read 
a sermon to them. One of these ser- 
mons became memoral:)le, causing a deal 
of mirth, from the unique text, which 
read : "A wonder was seen in heaven, 
a woman." Father's dissatisfaction 
was so great that he took a pew in the 
new church that had recently l>een built 
at By field. 

A disagreement had arisen in that 
societ}' at the settlement of the Rev. 
Elijah Parish. The minorit}^ separated 
from the i)arent Church, formed a new 
society, and put up a house of worship 
near where the Depot is now located. 
Parson Slade, an Englishman, educated 
luider the aus[)ices of Lady Hunting- 
don, was called to fill the pulpit. Our 
famil}- continued to occupy their pew 
in the old meeting-house, but I often 
rode over to Byfleld with my father. 
This societ}' — consisting of some of 
the most prominent and wealthy fami- 
lies, the Moody s, Longfellows, Tit- 
combs, Adams, and Pearsons — con- 



tinued several 3'ears. At length the 
talent and fame, coupled with the ge- 
nial humor of the celebrated Dr. Par- 
ish, drew the seceders back to the old 
church. Their meeting-house was sold 
to Deacon Benjamin Colman, who re- 
moved it near his residence and fitted 
it up for a school. A female seminary 
was esta])lislied there, which for a num- 
ber of years enjo^'ed an enviable celeb- 
rity. 

The next October, Parson Woods 
was united in marriage with a Miss 
Wheeler, a young lady from New 
Hampshire, and a parsonage was fur- 
nished for the 3'oung couple on the 
Main road. Several ladies were active 
in this service ; Aunt Ruth Little was 
foremost amongst them, and she stren- 
uously exerted herself to incite mother 
and Aunt Sarah to her ow^n enthusiasm. 
"Why, the blessed minister ' spake as 
never man spake ! ' And it was report- 
ed on good authorit}^, that his bride 
was ever}' way his equal." Though 
mother made no demonstration she 
good-naturedly assisted Aunt Ruth in 
forwarding some of her favorite plans, 
and Aunt Sarah's services were enlist- 
ed at Deacon Tenne^-'s. It had been 
arranged that the officers of the church, 
the more prominent members, and the 
intimate friends of the clergymen and 
their wives, should meet the bridal party 
at the Bradford line, and escort them to 
their new home, where an entertain- 
ment was to be given. This pro- 
gramme caused an excessive fluster 
amongst the feminine portion of the 
community. Our ladies had acquired 
a somewhat enviable reputation as 
cooks, and much anxiety was evinced 
that on this important occasion their 
credit should be maintained, no little 
rivalry being elicited, in both the quan- 



OP A NOKAGElsrARIAN. 



47 



tity and quality of the viands. Dress 
also became a momentous matter ; moth- 
er, whose skill and taste were unques- 
tionable, was fairly besieged by mem- 
bers of the family, to cut new dresses 
or remodel old ones. Deacon Tenney 
brought his wife a new silk dress from 
Boston, and a fashionable sister select- 
ed an elegant hat in Haverhill, that 
place having even then acquired a prom- 
inence for its style and fashion. Our 
good aunt, a modest, retiring woman, 
though exceedingly ladyhke in manner, 
yielded, though much against her wish- 
es, to her husband's will in these mat- 
ters, and much to his and her daugh- 
ter's delight, Madam Tenney was pro- 
nounced the handsomest and best 
dressed woman in the cortege. On the 
appointed day, about thirty- chaises met 
at the place of rendezvous, the last 
house in the parish, and as the clergy- 
man and his bride drove up, after an 
hilarious welcome, the cavalcade formed 
in line, the three deacons and their 
wives in front, and dashed over the 
road to the new parsonage, where an 
animated throng awaited them. After 
the ceremony of introduction to the 
young madam was over, the crowd re- 
paired to the tables, which were loaded 
with ever}' luxury. Mirth and good 
cheer ruled the hour, the bridegroom 
gTew positively ga^', and the bride won 
every heart by her beauty and urbanity. 
After supper, singing was proposed, 
there were many good singers in the 
compau}', and when several tunes were 
sung, a prayer was offered, then fol- 
lowed a parting h3'mn, and the throng 
dispersed well satisfied with the enter- 
tainment. 1 had been considered too 
young to attend the party, but I saw 
Madam Woods the next Sunday. She 
''walked out bride" in a oreen silk 



dress, a white satin bonnet, a white sat- 
in cardinal, ti'immed with white fur, and 
a grey fox muff and tippet. She was 
a tall, handsome lady, and the regard 
she at first inspired, continued through 
her sojourn in the parish. 



CHAPTER XII. 

The farm on which the house was lo- 
cated, where our district school had 
been kept, belonged to the widow and 
minor son of the late Robert Adams. 
Mrs. Adams, a sister of my grandfather 
Little, had married Mr. Bradstreet Ty- 
ler, and moved to Boxford ; her 3'oung 
son went with her, but on coming of age, 
young Robert took possession of the 
paternal acres, and notice was given, 
that the district must find other accom- 
modation for their school. Uncle Thur- 
rel had a large back chamber, which, 
as nothing better offered, was hired for 
the winter. This was an inconvenient 
location, on the extreme southerl}' boun- 
dary of the district, too far distant for 
the girls on the opposite side to reach 
in cold weather. Singularly, it so 
chanced that I was the only girl in our 
neighborhood though there were quite a 
number of boys, and to my discomfit- 
ure I found myself alone, the sole girl 
amongst a dozen boys. This was so 
unpleasant that I was permitted to re- 
main from school. The next summer 
Miss Emerson, after some trouble, se- 
cured an unused comb-maker's shop for 
her private school. The winter follow- 
ing. Deacon Tenne}', anxious to secure 
educational privileges for his daughters, 
offered a room. This carried the school 
so far away that a second winter, much 



48 



REMINISCENCES 



to my distress, I was deliarred from in- 
struction, feather said things wero 
wrong, something must he done, a 
school house ought to be built in a 
spot convenient of access. The subject 
was brought to public attention and 
met with general approval, though there 
was some opposition. A school-meet- 
ing was called, and it was voted to build 
a schoolhouse, as nearly in the centre 
of the district as possible. Mr. Oliver 
Dole made a survey, and it was deci- 
ded to place it on the upper side of 
Crane-neck road, at the lower corner of 
the intersecting highway to Bradford, 
now Groveland, nearly opposite where 
the present schoolhouse stands. A 
building al)out forty feet long and thir- 
ty 1)road was erected, finished and fur- 
nished in the best approved style of 
the period. The entrance at the south- 
erly corner faced the cross road. Pas- 
sing through an entr}^ furnished with 
high and low rows of wooden pegs, you 
entered the school-room. On the left, 
extended the fire-place ; beyond stood 
the teacher's desk ; in front rose tier 
after tier of clumsy, unpainted desks, 
front of these, and around the walls 
were ranged low forms. Six good 
sized windows lighted the apartment. 
Two long, narrow rocks supplied the 
place of fire-dogs. The dry kindlings 
were stored in the entry, but the green 
logs, the chief fuel, lay conveniently- near 
the door, where it was cut as needed, by 
the older boys. The new school-house 
gave general satisfaction, and was re- 
garded as a sumptuous temple of learn- 
ing, of which the district was justly 
proud, and the services of jNIaster 
Chase were secured for the inaugura- 
tion session. Noted for his eccentrici- 
ty, great learning and strict discipUne, 
the master was greeted by his pupils. 



on that memorable morning, with an 
awe bordering on fear. I had become 
used to his oddities, and, though never 
before reckoned amongst his pupils, 
when visiting at his house I had often 
been invited into the library, while his 
scholars were under instruction, and 
sometimes had participated in the exer- 
cises ; so with more confidence than the 
others, I took the desk to which I was 
assigned. Contrarj" to the custom, 
Master Chase never opened school with 
prayer. '"The devotion brought more 
deviltry than godliness. To prevent 
mischief, one must pray with open 
eyes, like Master Smith at Dunnner 
Academy. Let the parents teach 
the children to pray at home ; it was 
not the province of the school- 
teacher." At the commencement of 
his career, this idea had been strongly 
combatted, but without effect, and his 
sway had become so indisputable, that 
now no one thought of questioning it. 
The school seated, the Bible class was 
called to read. Books in hand we 
ranged ourselves before the teacher's 
desk, when to m^' astonishment, the 
master in a loud, authoritative tone, 
said, "SalUe Smith, take the head of 
the class, and read the first chapter of 
Genesis. The others will open their 
books, and pay particular attention to 
the reading, especially- to the pronunci- 
ation and expression." Could I be- 
lieve my ears? Could I have heard 
aright? I, read alone — read the whole 
of that long chapter, with all those 
scholars, some of them nearly men 
grown, listening in silence? I could 
never do it ! M}' inability was signified. 
"Bosh!" cried the master, "Sallie, 
take your place and read." I had heard 
that the teacher's laws were like those 
of the Medes and Persians ; to dispute 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



40 



the point was worse than reading, so, 
treml»ling from head to foot, I moved 
up the class. Encouraging looks were 
given. Uncle Joe Little managed to 
whisper, "Don't be scared," and the 
presence of Nannie Tenney, next to 
whom I found myself, gave farther re- 
assurance, but the first words were 
both low and tremulous, "Speak 
louder," directed the master, in a won- 
derfully pd!ite and gentle tone, "read 
as well. Miss Sallie, as you did to your 
aunt and m^'self last autumn." This 
remark expounded the riddle. I could 
not imagine why he thus called upon 
me to read. On a recent visit I had 
entertained my relatives one stormy 
evening, by reading to them from the 
"Spectator," Somewhat reassured, I 
managed to get through the chapter, 
after which the class read it verse bj- 
verse. This finished, we resumed 
our seats, and prepared to copy the 
first rule from Pike's arithmetic, in a 
manuscript book, into which all the 
rules and our examples were copied. 
The master having pointed the pens, 
turned his attention to the 3'ounger 
scholars, those whose acquirements had 
not advanced bej'ond Webster's spell- 
ing book. At half-past ten a recess of 
ten minutes was gi-anted, first to the 
girls, then to the boys, I was thank- 
ful to get to the fire, as the sputtering, 
sizzling green logs gave forth only a 
doubtful heat, and my desk at the up- 
per end of the room was intoleraljly 
cold. Spelling followed the recess. 
The session closed at twelve with an 
intermission of an hour and a half. 
Many of the scholars brought their din- 
ners. The noon was passed in fun and 
frolic by most, though some of the more 
studious availed themselves of this 
time to con their lessons, and some of 



the older boj's chopped wood. The 
firing was prepared by the boys, who 
also took turns in kindling the fire, and 
the girls swept the schoolhouse at noon. 
The afternoon exercises were opened 
l\y the first class, reading from the 
" American Preceptor ;" next the writ- 
ing books were ruled and the copies ^ 
set. While the older pupils were thus 
engaged, the younger scholars again re- 
ceived attention. The afternoon recess 
over, our spelling books were again 
taken out. The master having donned 
his overcoat, red bandanna and woolen 
mittens, took his big ruler in hand, and 
commenced a promenade to and fro be- 
tween the desks and the now smoul- 
dering fire. The recitation in spelling, 
and a second Bible reading closed the 
afternoon session. A few of the girls, 
myself included, at Miss Emerson's 
school had commenced the study of a 
grammar, styled "The Young Ladies' 
Accidence." As we were anxious to 
continue, though out of the common 
course, the master graciously acceded 
to our wish, though he would not per- 
mit his female pupils to cipher in ' ' Frac- 
tions." " It was a waste of time, whol- 
h' unnecessary' , would never be of the 
least use to them. If we could count 
our beaux and skeins of yarn it was 
sufficient." Those that I have named 
were the only studies. I was com- 
pelled to continue my Bible reading, 
and the master continued his stern 
swa}'. The utmost courtesy was en- 
joined. He was as exact in the matter 
of bows, curtseys and other polite foi*- 
mulas as a French dancing master. 
Occasionally, of a stormy da3', perhaps, 
the grim old fellow would relax for 
awhile, and become one of the most ge- 
nial and mirth-provoking of mortals. 
Having raised an uproarious merriment, 



50 



liEMINISCENOES 



he would suddenl}^ thump sikMice, with 
his formidal)le ruler, and the usual rou- 
tine was resumed. Two or three incor- 
rigible dunces received no mercy. If 
shakings and spankings could have 
brightened their wits, they must have 
become brilliant. Nothing lilte insub- 
ordination ever appeared, but nothing- 
escaped the 13'ux eye of the teacher, 
and if a scholar was detected in idle- 
ness, or misdemeanor, the Bible or an}'- 
thing handy was launched at the mis- 
creant's head. Mr. Oliver Dole's sec- 
ond son, a lad of twelve, was rather 
more inclined to indolence, than to eith- 
er stud}' or play. He had a trick of 
folding his arms upon the desk, and 
resting his head upon them, he would 
doze away the time given for the prej)- 
aration of the lessons. One afternoon, 
Diah having become thus comfortably 
composed, 1 saw that the master was 
poising his long ruler in the direction 
of the lad's head ; suddenly it whizzed 
across the room ; as it touched him, the 
bo}' gave a quick start, the missile 
canted sideways, and passed directly 
througli a pane of glass in the window 
behind. A sup[)ressed titter ran round 
the room. Witliout asking permission 
Joseph Little went and brought in the 
ruler. As the cold air blew in, I 
stuffed m}- hood into the sash. Not a 
word was spoken, the exercises pro- 
ceeded as usual, but the next morning, 
much to our astonishment, the glass 
was reset. How the master had pro- 
cured a light, and replaced the glass 
that cold weather has ever remained 
a m3-stery. Amongst the older boys 
was Samuel Thurrel, Uncle Thur- 
rel's second son. This lad had a 
somewhat pompous air, was rather too 
apt to boast of his father's wealth, and 
the superiority of all his belongings. 



At New Year he had l)een the recipient 
of a silver watch ; as no other scholar 
had acquired to such an appendage, 
Sam strutted al)out, to the admiration 
of the smaller (ly, while he excited the 
scorn of his mates. This disgust had 
been augmented l)y the addition of a 
long silver chain from which was sus- 
pended two heav}' silver seals, and an 
immense silver ke}'. This show}' orna- 
ment was displaj^ed to the greatest ad- 
vantage, and pains were taken to jingle 
and jangle it, as the young coxcomb 
paraded back and forth, between the 
recitation and his desk. There had 
been an unusual parade one morning, 
even the master had shown signs of im- 
patience. The afternoon session had 
commenced, every scholar but Joe Lit- 
tle was seated. There was the hush 
which preceded the call to read, when 
the door opened, and the tardy pupil 
entered, his face the impersonation of 
imperturba))le gravity, and a long chain, 
the curb to a bridle, dangling from his 
pocket ; to this chain was attached two 
seals cut from sole leather, and an enor- 
mous key. With a ludicrous imitation 
of Sam, he made his bow, then strode 
up the aisle, lifting his foot in such a 
manner as to jingle the curb chain at 
ever}- step, while the seals and key 
swung about most conspicuously. At 
sight of the youth, the master's face 
gave a spasmodic twitch, then he was 
seized with such a fit of coughing, 
that it was some moments ere the ruler 
signalled silence, or the general giggle 
that ran round the room was sup- 
}>ressed, but at length the summons to 
the class came, and though ni}- uncle 
continued to strut about, displaying his 
new ornament, much to the delight of 
the scholars, especially the older girls, 
whose merriment was scarcely repressed, 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



51 



he received no reprimand ; no notice 
was taken of the joke, though we all 
knew that the old fellow was enjoying 
it hngel^'. The next morning, Sam ap- 
peared minus his watch, and Uncle Joe 
never again displaj^ed his curb chain. 
The winter term sped all too soon. 
Notwithstanding his oddity, and strict 
discipline. Master Chase had the skill 
to interest his pupils in their studies, 
and, though the course was somewhat 
meagre, it was thorough. We really 
learned the three studies taught, read- 
ing, writing and arithmetic. Few pu- 
l)ils of the present day could surpass 
our first class reading, our spelling 
matches must have won the palm, and 
now we rareh' see such penmanship as 
was common at that period. Some of 
the arithmetical manuscript were ele- 
gant specimens of chirogra[)h3'. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

On December 14th, 1799, the coun- 
try was called to mourn the death of 
Gen. George Washington. Express- 
ions of heartfelt grief were universal. 
Every one felt that the nation had suf- 
fered an irreparable loss, that the fam- 
ily of states was bereft of its head, its 
father and truest friend. In Newbury- 
port a memorial serAice was held the 
second of Januar}-, when business was 
suspended, and residents of the coun- 
try fiocked to the town. While minute 
guns rever1)crated on the wintry air, 
Itells mournfully pealed, and flags sadly 
drooped at half-mast, a long process- 
ion ])earing the usual insignia of mourn- 
ing defile([ through the principal streets 
to the Old South meeting-house, where 



an eulogy was pronounced by Robert 
Treat Paine. It was a da^^ never to 
be forgotten, and the crape badge my 
father had worn was treasured for 
years as a sacred memento. On the 
22d of Februar3', B^^eld connnemorat- 
ed the birth and death of Washington 
by tolling the bell of the meeting-house 
an hour in the morning, and an ora- 
tion, delivered by the Rev. Elijah Par- 
ish. People from Newbur^^port and 
the whole country side thronged the 
house, drawn thither by the reputation 
for eloquence which the orator had ac- 
quired. 

Uncle Samuel Smith had prospered 
on his Vermont farm. Good buildings 
had been erected and most of the land 
cleared and brought under cultivation. 
His wife's prophecy had been fulfilled. 
His pleasing address and varied knowl- 
edge, enlarged by more studious habits 
than was usual to a person in his posi- 
tion, had given him a high place in the 
estimation of his neighbors and towns- 
folk, and he had been called to fill sit- 
uations of trust and honor, both in 
town and county. He usually visited 
his native place every winter, bringing 
a sleigh-load of country produce, which 
was exchanged for dry goods and gro- 
ceries. 

At the end of a bright February af- 
ternoon we espied Uncle Sam's team 
wearily dragging the hea-\dly laden 
sleigh up the lane, and mother began 
preparations for an extra nice supper, 
as our relative was somewhat of an ep- 
icure. After the first greetings and 
mutual inquiries were over. Uncle Sam 
passed to religious topics, and much to 
our surprise we learned that he had be- 
come interested in the new doctrine of 
Methodism. An itinerant preacher up- 
on a tour had stopped at his house and 



52 



REMINISCENCES 



claimed hospitality, which had been 
cordially extended. A clergyman of 
the strictest Calvinistic procUvities had 
been recently settled over the congre- 
gation at Berhn. Uncle Sam did not 
coincide with the new minister, but he 
was immediately impressed by the 
views which his guest unfolded. It 
was near the end of the Aveek, and the 
missionary was invited to stop over 
Sunday and preach in the schoolhouse. 
The news circled through the district 
and the building was thronged. The 
people were not united respecting the 
regular minister, and the stranger pro- 
duced a marked effect. He was invited 
to prolong his sojourn ; Uncle Sam and 
man}- others became converted, and a 
church was formed. The preacher had 
then gone to new spheres of labor, but 
Uncle Sam and ethers conducted a reg- 
ular Sunday worship at the school 
house. 

Before returning Uncle Sam gave us 
a specimen of Methodism in a long and 
singularly well-worded prayer, deliver- 
ed in the loudest tones of a powerful 
but finely modulated voice ; this peti- 
tion was followed hj a good hymn set 
to one of the enlivening Methodist 
tunes. Mr. Smith had a remarkable 
voice and an exquisite ear and taste, 
and his singing was superb, — I was 
enchanted by it. Mother liked the 
hymn, but father shook his head and 
gravely declared his sorrow : " Sam's 
head alwa3-s would l>e full of some- 
thing, lie had got over dancing and 
poetry, — now it was preaching, pray- 
ing and singing. Well, what was born 
in the bone could not be beat out of 
the flesh. He never was cut out for a 
drudging farmer, and he never would 
be one ; he only hoped he would not 
let that farm he had got under such 



headway go all to rack and ruin." 
Grandm'am was so deaf that it was 
difficult to make her compreliend the 
matter ; but Uncle Sam was too zeal- 
ous to leave her long unenlightened. 
This good woman was positively 
aghast: " Her son, her son Sam, turn- 
ed Methodist !" 

Grandm'am came of a '' first fami- 
ly ;" she was as complete an aristocrat 
as ever trod in No. 2 shoes. " Some- 
thing must be done ; she could not 
have any such doings. Why, it was a 
disgrace to the famil}-, and would 
bring ruin to himself! He had l)e- 
come of some account in that far-away 
place ; he should not subject himself 
and his friends to ignominy, and mar 
his bright prospects. Methodists, why 
they were ranters, gathered from the 
lower classes ! Her son had nothing 
to do with such people.* It was pre- 
posterous !" And the sweet, mild little 
woman put on all the assumption of 
authority that she could possibl}' as- 
sume, and in the most solemn manner 
pronounced her ban upon this new 
spiritual scheme. Aunt Sarah pished 
and pshawed over the praying and 
singing, then fidgeted and fussed re- 
specting the business of selling and 
buying, declaring that "Brother was 
so full of his new religion that he 
couldn't tell a cent from a dollar ;" and 
when he ))rought home a dress pattern 
of black silk for his wife, and a tasty 
blue silk bonnet for his daughter, she 
sat dOAvn with a hopeless face, folded 
her hands, and with uphfted eyes, 
washed her hands of the whole pro- 
ceedings. " Sam would never be a 
forehanded farmer, and she really 
feared he would become clean dis- 
traught. The Lord wasn't deaf, he 
needn't holler so at pi'ayer as to make 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



the warming-pan ring in the cellar 
way, or to scare Uncle Thurrel's folks, 
who couldn't imagine what all that 
shouting over to Jim Smith's meant. 
She thought Methody women cut off 
their hair and made frights of them- 
selves, but then sister hadn't lost her 
senses, like her husband, as she knowed, 
and for all his piety, Sam had too much 
of the old Adam yet, to let his pretty 
Sally wear anything but the most be- 
coming." A thaw came and Uncle 
Sam's stay was prolonged. The intel- 
ligence of his embracing Methodism, 
caused no small stir amongst his rela- 
tives and acquaintances, and every eve- 
ning our house was thronged. Some 
came to hear of the new doctrines from 
mere curiosity, others from a desire for 
knowledge, and a few earnestly to com- 
bat what they deemed a serious error, 
affecting both the temporal and spiritu- 
al welfare of the convert. Amongst 
the most forward and zealous of this 
class, was Aunt Ruth Little. It was 
vastly- amusing to listen to the war of 
words, and, it must be confessed. Un- 
cle Sam proved more than a match for 
the contestants. Politics also claimed 
a due share in the conversation. Par- 
ties were in a furious ferment. "Fed- 
eralist" and "Democratic" (or Jacob- 
in, as the party was usually termed) 
lines were tightlj' drawn, each displaj'- 
ing unseemly rancor and bitterness, 
which had sometimes merged into strife. 
Father and Uncle Sam were Jacobins, 
the mnjority of the visitors Fedo'alists. 
Uncle Thurrel was a great politician. 
In the strongest terms he would de- 
nounce ' ' that Tom Jefferson ; if he was 
raised to the presidency there would be 
a second French revolution ; the nation 
would find to their sorrer that they had 
got a second Robertspear to rule over 



'em." Robespierre had for a time been 
Uncle Thurrel's pet bugbear, and his 
name continued to be brought forward 
long after he was mouldering in the 
grave. Aunt Ruth, with characteristic 
vehemence, would plunge into the dis- 
cussion. Her face aglow, and her knit- 
ting needles clicking, she would -soluMy 
exi)atiate ui)on the luisounduess and ir- 
reverence of the great Democratic lead- 
er. ' ' Why, if he was elected president 
the country would l)e turned upside 
down ! Tom Jefferson was no better 
than Tom Paine. lie believed in Vol- 
taire as much as he did in Christ, and 
put the Age of Reason afore the Bible. 
Let him get the reins of government- 
and there would be no more ' Sabl)a' 
day ; ' the meetin'-'uses would all be 
shet, and another rein of terror spread 
over the land." 

At the height of his wife's vehemence 
quiet Uncle John contrived to change 
the subject, by some timely question or 
droll remark. Uncle Sam w^ould tune 
up in one of his lively Methodist h^-mns, 
and the company would disperse in all 
neighborly friendship, though Aunt 
Ruth never went without a last word of 
warning and rebuke. 



chaptp:r XIV. 

A second sui'prise came to the fam- 
ily and parish in the engagement of 
Aunt Susanna Little to her first cousin 
Robert Adams. This young gentleman 
had inherited what, at that period, was 
reckoned a fortune ; as he was hand- 
some and prepossessing, he had been 
riageable daughters in the most favora- 
regarded by anxious mammas and mar- 



54 



EEMTNISCEKCES 



ble light, and the efforts had not been 
slight, to win his favor, l)ut young Roh- 
ert had proved invulnerable. Though 
he had taken possession of his farm, 
he had boarded in the family of his 
cousin Edmund Little, who rented his 
house, in bachelor content. Now, with- 
out the least warning, it was announced 
that Sukey Little had won the prize, 
that Mr. Adams was making arrange- 
ments to put up a new house, and the 
marriage would take place on its com- 
pletion in the autumn. 

The Adams families of Newl)ury 
claim to have descended from John Ap 
Adam, w^ho was summoned to parlia- 
ment as a Baron of the Realm from 
1296 to 1307. He descended from a 
family in Wales whose record runs back 
several centuries. The genealogy is as 
follows : 

John Ap Adam — Elizabeth Gouniey. 
Sir John Ap A(him — 
William Ap Adam — 
tSir John Ap Adam — 
Thomas Ap Adam — Jane Inge. 
Sir John Ap Adam — Miliscent Bosylls. 
Sir John Ap Adam alias Adams — Clara 
Powell. 

Roger Adams — Jane Eliott. 
Thomas Adams — Maria Upton. 
Jolm Adams — Jane Benneleigh. 
John Adams — Catherine Stebling. 
John Adams — Margaret Squier. 
Richard Adams — Margaret Armager 

who had two sons, Robert, who mar- 
ried P^lizabeth Shirland, and William, 

who married Barrington. Henry, 

one of the sous of William, came to 
New England in 1630, and died in 
Braintree. He was llie ancestor of the 
presidents John and John Quiney Ad- 
ams. Robert, the son of Robert, came 
from Devonshire to Ipswich in 1635, 
thence to Salem in 1638, and to 
Newbury in 1640. His wife, Eleanor, 
died June 12lh, 1677. He died Oct. 
12th, 1682. His second wife, Sara, 
widow of Henr}' Sliort, he married 



Feb. 6th, 1678. She died Oct. 24th, 
1697. Cliildren : Abraham, born 1639 ; 
Isaac, born 1648 ; Jacob;, born April 23, 
1649, died in infancy; another Jacpb 
born Sept. 13th, 1651 ; Hannah, born 
June 25th, 1650; Robert, Elizabeth, 
Joanna, Mary and Jolin. Abraliani 
Adams, son of Robert married Mary 
Pettingell, Nov. 16th, 1670. Children ; 
Robert, born May 12, 1674 ; Abraham, 
l)orn Ma}' 2d, 1676 ; Isaac, l^orn Feb. 
26th, 1679 ; Sara, born April 15th, 1681 ; 
Matthew, born May 25th, 1686 ; Israel, 
born Dec. 25th, 1688; Dorotli}', born 
Oct. 25th, 1691 ; Richard, l)orn Nov. 
2 2d, 1693. Matthew, the fourth son 
of Abraham Adams, born May 25th, 
1686, married Sara Knight April 4th, 
1707, and was the first physician in 
what is now^ West N§w^l)ury, where he 
owned a large tract of land. He died 
Nov. 15th, 1755, aged 69. He had 
two sons, Matthew and Abraham, and 
two daughters ; one married Joseph 
Bartlett, of the west precinct, the other, 
Judith, married my great grandfather, 
Capt. Edmund Little. Their daughter, 
Eunice, married her kinsman Robert 
Adams of the "Farms District," who 
purchased the farm on Crane-neck for- 
merly owned by my grea-tuncle Wil- 
liam Smith. Mr. Adams died young 
leaving this one son Robert. The Ap 
Adams arms are 




ARGENT, ON A CROSS GULES, FIVE MULLETS OR. 



OF A NON^AGEJfAKIAN. 



55 



Great was the commotion over the 
engagement. Suddenl}' several people 
made the discovery that gentle, quiet 
Aimt Sukey "was a si}' thing, a real 
artful piece, despite her demure ways ; 
still waters ran the deepest. They 
guessed Robert Adams would rue the 
day he married her, the proud miss, so 
grand in her airs the ground didn't 
seem good enough for her to tread on ! 
No good ever came of such marriages, 
first cousins were altogether too near." 
A series of visits were vouchsafed us, 
which we well understood was for the 
express purpose of gleaning informa- 
tion respecting the pros and cons of the 
alfair. Amongst these visitors were 
two of the old maid Hills. Joseph, 
Joshua, Nabbie, Lizzie, Nannie and 
Hannah Hills, resided on a farm on a 
cross road l)eyond Meeting House hill. 
Out of this family, one brother, ]Mr. 
Eliphelet Hills, alone had married. 
Mr. Joseph and Joshua were pleasant, 
estimable men. In company with 
mother's uncle, John Merrill (the great 
grandfather of Ben : Perley Poore) , 
Uncle Josh, for 3'ears, took tea with us 
in the Thanksgiving holidays, when the 
jolly pair smacked their lips, joking 
each other about gormandizing over 
" Trudy's niceties." The sisters were 
precise, genteel bodies, in their more 
j-outhful da^'s attired in the tip of the 
mode, greatl}' exciting my admiration 
as they followed one another up the 
broad aisle of the meeting-house with 
silks rustling and plumes waving. Mrs. 
Liph. Hills (a Miss Sarah Wymau 
from the vicinity of Boston) was a 
a milliner. She had a shop in her house 
on the main road, where she worked at 
her trade, and kept a variety of wares, 
and her sisters-in-law were famed for 
their tasty head gear. The}' had also 



become noted for several little, harm- 
less idiosyncrasies. Some ideas re- 
specting housekeeping were especially 
ludicrous. Though the food was bought 
in common, each brother and sister pro- 
vided their own tea and coffee, and 
each had a separate pot. Uncle Joe 
drank chocolate. Uncle Josh, coffee, 
Miss Nabby, strong old hj'son, Miss 
Lizzie liked hers weaker, Miss Nannie 
preferred young hj'son, while Miss 
Hannah never drank anything but Sou- 
chong. It was exceedingly diverting 
to see the six small pots, like the 
' ' four and twenty white pots all in a 
row," sizzling on six little mounds of 
embers before the capacious fire. Vis- 
itors could take their choice, or have a 
variety. The girls of the vicinity got 
a deal of fun, from visiting the maid- 
ens, and taking a sip all round. On a 
wild March day, about one 'o'clock, in 
the midst of a smart snow squall, I 
caught a glimpse of Miss Nannie's red 
cloak whisking round the corner of the 
house, while Miss Lizzie, a stout, 
heavy woman, breathlessly tc^iled in the 
rear. I ran to admit the visitors, who 
came laughing in, Miss Nannie inquir- 
ing, "if I thought they snowed down 
in the squall?" Having rested and 
gained their breath, they divested them- 
selves of cloaks and hoods, informing 
us as they did so ' ' that they had come 
early and must go early ; they should 
like tea in good season." This was an 
invariable formula, and had passed into 
a by-word amongst the hvely young 
people. Having become comfortably 
ensconced before the fire, their fine 
company knitting in hand, the stream 
of talk commenced. Aunt Sarah was 
able to crow over the others, as she 
had possessed Robert Adams' confi- 
dence some weeks before his proposal. 



56 



REMINISCEIirCES 



"She saw no hurt in the young coup- 
le marrying, although the}^ were near 
relations. The^' were wholly dissimi- 
lar in temperament, and strongly at- 
tached to each other. The Littles were 
famous for intermarrying ; she could 
not see that any hurt had come of it. 
Take them as a whole they were a pret- 
ty smart lot." The visitors wisely 
shook their heads, and as wisely con- 
cluded that the young couple would 
take their ''ain gate " spite of remarks 
or remonstrance. The sisters had a 
deal to tell of the Daltons and Hoop- 
ers, two distinguished families, owning 
two elegant countr}- seats on ''Pipe 
Stave Hill." Mr. Dalton, at that time 
oiu- senator in Congress, was in Wash- 
ington, but his family were at their 
town residence, the fine old mansion 
opposite the Merrimac House in New- 
Ituryport.- The Hoopers remained 
through the year in the country. Sev- 
eral gay sleighing parties had ridden 
up to the farm during the winter ; the 
spacious residence had l)een the scene 
of much convivial festivity. Madam 
Hooi)er had also spent some weeks in 
Boston. A detailed account of the 
splendor of the wardrobe prepared for 
this excursion was given and various 
other on dits of fashionable life, and 
city and town gossip related. Punctu- 
ally at four o'clock, tea was on the ta- 
ble ; the ladies having regaled them- 
selves, and duly praised the viands, es- 
pecially the plum cake and the cheese 
— "Mr. Newell said Prudy Smith's 
cheese commanded the highest price in 
the market at the Port" — took their 
leave in high good humor. Drawing 
their hoods over their noses, and wrap- 
ping their thick, red cloaks about them, 
they declared that they should be "as 
warm as toast ; the wind would drive 



them liome, and the}' should get there 
in grand good season." 

A few mornings after this visit, we 
received a great scare. 1 went into the 
garret, and, glancing out of the win- 
dow, to ni}' amazement and fright, I 
discerned a dense smoke rising from 
Mr. OUver Dole's pasture, at the foot 
of the hill. I lost no time in hastening 
down and spreading the alarm. Fath- 
er, Uncle Enoch, and Uncle Thiu-rel's 
folks hurried over to their neighbors. 
As the wind, which liad lilown at sun- 
rise, had increased to a gale, the pro- 
gress of the flames was eagerly watched. 
How that pasture came to he burning 
we could not imagine, but the fire soon 
spent itself, and the return of the gen- 
tlemen solved the mystery. The en- 
closure had grown over to huckleberry 
bushes ; in the season, people came to 
pick the berries. Mrs. Dole was a 
Carlton, from the main road, and she 
had many -visitors. Wagonful after 
wagonful of women and children would 
ride over, put the horse in the barn, go 
into the pasture and fill their baskets 
with huckleberries, then come back to 
the house to tea. This, in the busy hay 
season, was somewhat inconvenient, 
especially as Mrs. Dole was not a very 
strong woman. Mr. Dole, though 
neither a morose nor stingy man, lost 
his patience, and declared a stop should 
be put to this " huckleberrying visita- 
tion." Accordingly, he set fire to his 
bushes, thinking to totally destroy 
them ; but, instead, the rising wind 
sent the flames lightly over the brush- 
wood, without touching the roots, and 
the result was a splendid growth of 
bushes and an abundant quantity of 
the largest and most luscious fruit. 
Mrs. Dole and the neighbors had much 
sport re4>ecting the result of her hus- 



OF A NON AGENARIAN. 



57 



band's destructive efforts. Mrs. Dole 
said : ' ' Providence did not smile on 
his inhospitable intent." Tlie children 
had grown large enough to pick, and 
the berries were so nice, Mr. Dole mar- 
keted them at the Port to much advan- 
tage, besides entertaining the visitors. 
Owners of old huckleberry pastures 
could take a hint, and, by cop3'ing Mr. 
Dole's mode of culture, improve what 
in these days has become quite a desid- 
eratum in the market. 



CHAPTER XV. 

One of the great institutions of those 
days was the s})ring and fall trainings. 
There were compau}' musters at the 
training field on the main road in May 
and September, and a regimental re- 
view at -the Plains some time in au- 
tumn. The officers of these militia 
companies alone wore uniforms, the pri- 
vates mostly turned out in their Sun- 
day suits. The musket in those days 
was fired Ijy a Hint, the spark from 
which hghted the priming in a little ex- 
ternal })an connected with the interior 
charge through a small vent. A prim- 
ing wire about the size of a common 
knitting needle, and a little brush two 
inches long, which hung by a brass 
chain to the belt, were used to keep 
the vent clear and the pan clean. These 
training days were the occasion for a 
general frolic, especially the reviews. 
General trainings drew a motley crowd, 
venders of all sorts of wares, mounte- 
banks and lewd women ; a promis- 
cuous assemblage, bent upon pleasure. 
Beyond the lines there was always 
much carousing and hilarious uproar. 

8 



Many customs were then in vogue, now 
obsolete in militarj- circles, such as fir- 
ing at the legs of an officer at his ap- 
pointment to test his courage, iuid fir- 
ing a salute Ijefore the residence of a 
new officer at sunrise on the morning 
of training day. Of course the recipi- 
ent of these honors was expected to 
give a treat. Many a poor fellow be- 
came somewhat ' ' onsteady " before the 
day had far advanced, and more were 
hors-du-combat ere it had closed. Ac- 
cidents often occurred. One officer, 
from the careless loading of a gun, re- 
ceived a severe wound in the leg, and 
Mr. Oliver Pillsbury had several lights 
in his new honse broken at a salute in 
honor of his attaining a lieutenancy. 
At this review there was a large caval- 
ry company, including members from 
both Newburyi)ort and Newl»ury. New- 
buryport liad one uniformed company, 
the artillery. I very well remember how 
imposing they looked to my ^childish 
eyes as the}^ marched onto the muster 
field at the plains, to the music of fife 
and drum, with waving flag, and fol- 
lowed by their field pieces. The regi- 
mental bands were then unknown. The 
foot soldiers marched to the fife and 
drum, the cavalry to the notes of the 
bugle. Colby Rogers was trumpeter 
for the troops for many years. The 
Governor and staff and many distin- 
guished guests were present on the 
great day I have recalled. A public 
dinner was given and the festivities 
were closed by a grand })all in the even- 
ing. 

I was about seven years old when 
this militia system was organized, and 
well do I remember the sensation pr5- 
duced by the officers of our company 
presenting themselves at meeting, the 
Sunday preceding the fall training, in 



58 



REMINISCENCES 



their new uniforms. Somerliy Chase 
was captain ; Amos Carlton, heuten- 
ant ; Paul Baile}-, ensign ; John Pea- 
body, Josiah Hill, Caleb Chase, and 
Moses Carr, first, second, third and 
fourth lieutenants ; Mr. Bill Hill was 
brigade quartermaster. Capt. Good- 
rich, though he had not then attained 
that title, was an officer in the cavahy, 
and he came out in the new troopers' 
uniform, a red coat, buff vest and 
pants, Ijlack leather c<ip trimmed with 
bear skin, and a tall, stiff, straight, 
red plume. This was a splendid sight 
for our unsophisticated country' folks, 
and I fear little attention was given to 
the sermon. 

The tedium of the summer work was 
relieved b}- the cutting, curing and 
boating the salt ha}' from the Plum 
Island marsh. Every farmer then 
owned more or less of salt meadow ; no 
one thought of tvintering stock without 
salt ha}'. Though this Ijrought much 
lieav}- labor to both men and women, 
it was a break in the monotony of the 
dail}' round of toil, and for the males, a 
change of air and scene which my fath- 
er considered most beneficial. 

Our hired help were men from the 
small hamlet in the woods, beyond the 
pond, called Dogtown, and good, hon- 
est, trusty lal)orers they were. Uncle 
Burrel was father's chief factotum, l)ut 
Joe Gould, Amos Pillsbury, Oliver 
Goodrich and the Rogerses were also 
emploj-ed. The rate of wages was 
about fifty cents a day and Ijoard, 
through the six working da^s ; the}- 
slept and spent the Sabbath at home. 
The}' often preferred to receive their 
pay in the products of the farm, such 
as corn, Indian meal, potatoes, pork, 
and a little butter. This was a mutual 
convenience, and the best of feelings 



and the most friendly terms were al- 
ways maintained between the employer 
and the employed. DogtoAvn was two 
miles distant from Crane-neck, and, 
after passing Dole's pond, the road ran 
through thick woods. This, on some 
dark and stormy nights, was rather 
bug-a-l)Ooish, and on one occasion old 
Pillsbury got a terrible scare, from 
which he never became wholly relieved. 
We were at breakfast when he entered 
one morning, looking frightened and 
pale. "What is the matter?" was in- 
stantly queried. The old man lisped 
slightly: "Oh, Mr. Smith, I see a ter- 
rible critter in the woods beyant the 
pond last night." 

"A terrible critter, Pillsbury? What 
was it like?" father inquired. 

"Oh, Mr. Smith, it was a terrible 
big critter, as big as Brindle's calf ; its 
eyes were like fire coals, and it ran 
past me through the bushes, about a 
rod from the road, with every hair 
Avhisthng like a bell. It must have 
been the wolverine." 

"The what, Pillsbury?" 
"The wolverine. My old granny 
used to keep us young 'uns quiet with 
stories about the wolverine out beyant 
in the woods. I used to be afeared to 
stir ten yards from the door o' nights ; 
but, as I had never seen the critter 
afore, I had begun to think it was one 
of granny's stories, but I seed him last 
night, sartin sure ; and his eyes were 
like fire coals, and every hair whistled 
like a bell." 

The old man was so sure that he had 
met some strange animal that the neigh- 
boring men turned out that night, each 
armed and equipped for a deadly en- 
counter with some ferocious beast, but 
nothing was found ; and, though the 
quest was continued by the young men 



OF A NOKAGEKARTAN^. 



59 



and boys for several evenings, no 
strange animal was ever discovered. 
But old Pillsbury, to his dying day, 
used to declare there was "a wolverine 
in them woods, with eyes like coals of 
fire, and every hair whistling like a 
bell," and nothing could ever again in- 
duce the old man to travel the road 
alone after nightfall. 
^ Father's salt meadow was at Hale's 
cove. Grandsir Little owned one be- 
low, in Rowley, and which, as shoe- 
making was brisk, father cut for sever- 
al 3'ears in addition to his own. The 
English hay in the baru, the grain 
reaped and the tlax pulled, towards the 
last of August or the first of Septem- 
ber, according to the tides, the salt hay 
season liegan. Father and the other 
mowers — these were neighbors, adepts 
in mowing, to whom the liighest wages, 
a doUar a da}', was paid — rode to Old- 
town bridge ; the horse having been 
stal)led in one of the adjacent barns. 
Plum Island river was crossed in a 
wherry hired for the day, and the work 
commenced. Tliere was a sutliciency 
of hands to cut the grass before sun- 
set. Having been left to dry for a day 
or so, another da}- was devoted to cur- 
ing it ; then came the boating. This 
was the grand epoch. Nice food was 
provided for the mowers and rakers, 
but boating brought a dog-daj's Thanks- 
giving baking. Mince pies, plum cake, 
rich doughnuts, nice meats, baked beans 
and other tempting viands were packed 
in a wooden chest, along with a small 
keg of cider and a bottle of ' ' Santa 
Cruz" or " Jamaica." Many farmers 
would have thought it impossible to 
get a freight without a gallon or more 
of rum, but father Avas a temperate 
man, and careful not to put any temp- 
tation before those in his employ. The 



gondola laid at the foot of "Whetstone 
lane ; if the weather proved auspicious 
the freight was usually at the landing in 
thirty-six hours. The neighbors turned 
out with their teams, and the hay was 
carted home, a distance of two miles, 
in a triumphant procession. The mow 
laid, the supper, a most jovial enter- 
tainment, was disposed of, and the 
weary men separated with the declara- 
tion that a " good job, well over," had 
been completed. Though this hay sea- 
son gave additional toil to the women 
of the household, it also brought long 
leisure days ; after the men were finally 
ofl!" in the early morning and the work 
done, the rest of the day was often de- 
voted to visiting. 

Father had been boating Grandsir Lit- 
tle's hay. I was there to assist, when 
we received an afternoon visit from 
two neiglil^ors — the Misses Hill — elder- 
ly young ladies, very genteel and i)re- 
cise. The conversation turned upon 
the universal topic, the liaying. The 
visitors expressed much disgust at the 
Avhole Inisiness. " The toil of cooking 
in such hot weather was so undesira- 
ble, and so much food must be provid- 
ed, it was not possible to prevent some 
from l)eing uneaten, but they always 
threw that away ; they never could 
stomach anything after it had been 
packed for the meadows." As the 
family were not noted for an overabun- 
dance in their larder at any time, and 
the " short commons" given to their 
hired help was proverbial, we were 
rather diverted at their remarks. It 
so chanced that when the provision 
chest had been unloaded the previous 
evening, a mince pie, a loaf of cake 
and a plate of doughnuts had been ta- 
ken out. These with many sly glances 
to her mother, sister and m^^self, Aunt 



60 



EEMINISCENCES 



Hannah placed upon the tea table. 
The visitors enjoyed their supper ex- 
ceedingly, helped themselves twice to 
the plum cake — " Mrs. Little's raised 
cake was always so nice, so much bet- 
ter than they could make ; she had the 
' knack ' for this ;" the other edibles 
were equally eulogized. At early dusk, 
in time for milking, our visitors left us, 
without the least idea that they had 
been feasting on ' ' horrid meadow vict- 
uals." 

In October Aunt Sukey was mar- 
ried. She had a very quiet wedding, 
and as the new house was completed, 
the young couple took immediate pos- 
session. The new home was only a 
few rods from the old one ; though so 
near, still, the bride's absence from the 
paternal hearth caused a serious vacu- 
um in the household. Uncle Bill mar- 
ried the year after Aunt Betsy ; now 
only Hannah, Ben and Joe remained. 
Though Sukey was the most retiring 
and reticent of the family, she had been 
exceedingly efficient, and she was 
missed every hour of the day in a mul- 
tiplicity of matters. Some question 
respecting the Aveather had been moot- 
ed ; it was referred to grandsir : " I do 
not know, Robert carried away our al- 
manac," was his reply. Much sur- 
prised, I cast ni}' eyes to the nail by 
the fireplace where the family calender 
always hung. It was in its place. 
Grandsir caught my look of wonder, 
and the twinkle of his e3-es gave me 
the hint. Sure enough ! Robert had 
not only carried awa}' the almanac, but 
a whole treatise of wisdom and pru- 
dence beside. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

April l)rouglit the annual "Fast." 



To overtasked or parsimonious house- 
keepers this might be a welcome holi- 
day, on which they could sympathize 
with old Mrs. Tom Pike of Byfield, 
who declared ' ' she'd rather have 
two Fasts than one Thanksgivin'," ))ut 
to the 3'oung folks and children, the 
day was somewhat of a bug-bear. In 
some families of the "stricter sort," 
the children were wont to surreptitious- 
ly store a quantity of food against the 
hungry day. The Perle}' boys of By- 
field always contrived to lay by salt 
fish and crackers in the hay mow, and 
other 3'oung people of my acquaintance 
managed to obtain a luncheon between 
the meetings. The late Deacon Jo- 
seph Hale of Byfield, often related an 
incident of a Fast day of his boyhood. 
Having accompanied the sons of the 
Rev. Moses Parsons to the parsonage 
to spend the noon intermission, some- 
what to his surprise, if not horror, 
those 3'Oung gentleman stealthily enter- 
tained him and supplied themselves 
with a hearty meal. Having become 
tairly goi'ged with good cheer, the}' 
seated themselves quietly in the kitch- 
en. As the hour for the afternoon ser- 
vice approached, the good parson, with 
a kindly regard for youthful stomachs, 
came into the room and told the boys, 
' ' that if they were very hungry he 
would permit a shght lunch." This the 
young scamps piously declined, "not 
wishing to make any infringement on 
the religious ol)servance of the day," 
and their clerical papa entered upon the 
afternoon duties, in the full satisfaction 
of possessing sons worthy of a sire's 
confidence and approbation. In most 
households, the breakfast over, a pot 
of beans and an Indian pudding were 
put in the oven ; the morning chores 
done, a sabbatical silence settled over 



or A NONAGENARIAN. 



(31 



the household. At eleven o'clock ev- 
ery one repaired to the meeting-house ; 
as there was ])ut an hour's intermission 
between the services, few left the sanc- 
tuary. The men gathered round the 
door steps, discussing local topics 
or national affairs, the women congre- 
gated in the pews, to talk over house- 
hold matters and the gossip of the 
neighborhood. If it was a warm da}', 
the girls gathered on the sunny side of 
the meetinghouse, where many sly glan- 
ces were exchanged with the group of 
young men by the horse block. If it 
chanced to be cold they also sought the 
pews, and in groups discussed fashion 
and the beaux, but with a demure air, 
and in low tones as befitted the occa- 
sion. 

The clergymen generally emlu'aced 
this opportunity for some particular 
theme, some peculiar shortcoming eith- 
er of a local or political nature. Dr. 
Elijah Parish was famed for his " Fast " 
sermons. People used to flock to By- 
field meeting-house to hear the doctor's 
diatril)es against Jacobin misrule and 
French infideht}-. The afternoon ser- 
vice over, the hungry multitude hast- 
ened home to the beans and pudding 
which Avere nicely smoking in the oven. 
How the gravel stones of the rough 
road would fly aa the impatient steeds 
sped down the precipitous descent to 
the peril of life and limb. Supper and 
milking through, the evening was spent 
in reading and conversation. I should 
not have dared to have taken a needle 
in hand on Fast day. To the horror of 
the community, one Fast evening, 
"Bartlett's boys" and some other 
young men went over to "Gunket," 
and played ball after supper. One of 
the number, Enoch Hale, had the mis- 
fortune to sprain his arm, and was una- 



ble to work for some months. This 
was regarded as a special mark of Di- 
vine displeasure, a signal judgment 
for a heinoiis crime. 

That spring brought a new fasliion 
in head gear. Straw bonnets came in- 
to vogue. Peabody, Waterman & Co. 
received an invoice from England, and 
Mrs. Peabod}' presented one to her sis- 
ter Hannah. I greatly admired this 
bonnet, but mother said she could not 
afford to buy me one that season. 
Aunt Sarah, noticing my discontented 
visage, inquired the cause, at which 
she signified her readiness tq teach me 
to liraid straw, and make myself a, bon- 
net. Much surprised, I asked how she 
had learned. " As I have most things, 
I taught myself," was the reply. "•Dur- 
ing the Revolutionary war two British 
cruisers for two days lay off the mouth 
of the Merrimac. The inhabitants of 
the "Port" were greatly' alarmed, mo- 
mentarily expecting a bombardment. 
Your great-aunt Mollie Noyes packed 
her effects, and, with her children, came 
here. Though the men-of-war with- 
drew without any demonstration, as the 
news immediately came that Captain 
No^'es's vessel had been captured, and 
himself and crew were prisoners at 
Dartmoor, Mrs. Noyes remained some 
time. Your father was troubled with 
headache, and often complained of 
the heat of his wool hat. One day 
during having, Aunt Noyes brought 
him a straw hat, which she said 
Captain No^'es had brought from for- 
eign parts. After it was worn out 
your father missed it so much that the 
idea struck me of braiding one. We 
had a field of oats. I cut some straw, 
took the old hat, and, after patiently 
unbraiding and braiding for a time, at 
length succeeded in obtaining the se- 



62 



EEMINISCENCES 



cret. I braided and sewed a hat, which, 
though not as handsome as the foreign 
one, did very well. I braided several, 
and can teach you. AVhen tin; oats 
are large enough to cut you can make a 
pretty bonnet." 

Mother tried to dissuade uie from 
this project. She didn't beheve I could 
"make anything decent." I was strong 
in faith, and my aunt upheld this de- 
termination. As soon as the straw was 
ripe I began to plait, and soon had 
sufficient for a bonnet. The straw 
was finer than Aunt Hannah's, but, as 
no knowledge of bleaching had been 
obtained, it was not as white ; still, it 
looked ver}' well. Aunt Sarah fash- 
ioned it in the prevailing mode, but a 
difficulty arose respecting pressing. 
The front was (Easily managed, but how 
could the crown be shaped? Aunt Sa- 
rah was a person of expedients ; I nev- 
er knew her frustrated in anything slie 
set aljout. A mortal' was turned l)ot- 
tom upward, paper fitted over it, and 
the crown shaped to the requisite form. 
I Avas jubilant over this lionnet, and 
m}' aunt Peabody sent a white ribbon 
to trim it, like Aunt Hannah's. Neith- 
er before nor after do I think I was ever 
so proud of an article of dress as I was 
of that bonnet. After this we cut a 
quantity of straw, and I braided father 
a hat. 

This summer was memorable for the 
dismissal of our district school teacher. 
Joseph Adams, a young man of nine- 
teen, and nephew of Mrs. Oliver Dole, 
had been hired to teach the summer 
school. He professed great piety, and 
maintained a grave demeanor, which, 
in school, grew into an imperial stern- 
ness, a manner not calculated to win 
the scholars' aflfections. Man}" of the 
parents became dissatisfied after the 



first few days. My father declared the 
teacher wholly unfit for his place ; l)ut 
the summer school was short, and, from 
respect to Mr. and Mrs. Dole, nothing 
was said until I rebelled. There were 
about half a dozen girls in their teens 
in the school ; and, about the third 
week of the term. Master Adams 
brought a book, from which he pro- 
posed that we should read selec- 
tions. This exercise was in addition 
to the regular course. I have forgot- 
ten the title of the book, but it was 
some religious treatise. Ha\ing ranged 
the class before his desk, he took the 
l)Ook, and, standing behind the pupil, 
he passed his arms around her neck, 
holding it before her, while he correct- 
ed the errors of pronunciation and 
enunciation. A sentence having been 
read, he passed to the second, and so 
down the class. Being the 3'oungest, 
I was tlie last. The dresses were at 
that time cut low in the neck, and I 
immediatel}' saw that the young man's 
gaze was not constantl}' fixed upon the 
book, and I determined that his arms 
should not go round me in that man- 
ner ; I would either hold the book or 
not read. When my turn came I sig- 
nified this decision. The master turned 
as red, and bristled up like a turkey' 
cock ; but ni}' resolution could not be 
shaken, and a compromise was efl^ected, 
he holding one side of the book and I 
the other. Father said that I had done 
right ; I might do as I pleased respect- 
ing the reading ; it was not. a regular 
school exercise, and the master had no 
right to force me. Accordingly, the 
next afternoon, I declined to join the 
class. The master began to threaten, 
but soon saw he could not use coercion. 
Thenceforth I was permitted to pursue 
my own course, but I immediately per- 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



63 



ceived that I had become a special ob- 
ject of cnmit}' ; a spite that was ex- 
tended to the other and yonnger mem- 
bers of m}' family. INIy l)rother James 
was menaced with a whip})ing for a 
slight misdemeanor, but the sturdy boy 
threatened his father's vengeance in 
such a manner that the master wisely 
desisted. Still, I could see the smoth- 
ered wrath, ready to seize the first op- 
portunity when it could find vent. 
The opportunity was at length taken. 
M3' uncle, Enoch Smith, had married, 
some 3'ears previous, Miss Hannah 
Woodman. Their two sons, Samuel 
and Moses, attended school. Moses 
was a poor, little, puny bo^' of five 
years, a delicate, sickly cliild from in- 
fancy, but of a quiet and amiable dis- 
position, and, having a wholesome 
dread of Master Adams, he was the 
ast oaie to have made a disturbance. 
Diah Dole, the great dunce, that Mas- 
ter Chase thumped and shook so un- 
mercifull}', was fulh' double in age. 
He occupied a front desk ; Moses sat 
on the low form in front of that. One 
afternoon, soon after the school was 
called to order, Diah spat upon the 
floor, and with his toe (he was bare- 
foot) marked out a figure in the aisle, 
then, contrary to rules, leaned forward 
and whispered: "Mose, look at my 
cock; .I've made a cock, a biddy." 
The little boy glanced from his primer, 
and, with a look of disdain, drew his 
shoe over the figure. Diah, with an 
angry push, said: "You have spoiled 
my cock ! " Moses put up his hand 
and slapped Diah's face. The master 
flew from his desk, shook Moses un- 
mercifully, and told Diah to mind his 
book. At recess he directed Moses to 
bring him a rod from a bush by the 
roadside. The unsuspecting child 



obeyed. I thought he was to be 
whipped then, but the punishment was 
held in reserve. I had hoped that my 
suspicions had been groundless, that 
Moses would not receive chastisement ; 
but I found, when school was dismissed, 
the little boy was retained. I hurried 
home to inform his mother. It was 
such a trivial thing Aunt Smith paid 
little heed, but I kept an outlook, and 
after a while I espied Moses creeping 
up the lane ; dragging his little feet 
wearily along, he sank upon a log just 
inside the gate. I ran to him. He 
gazed stupidly into m}' face, and, with 
a piteous moan, sank fainting into my 
arms. My cries aroused the family ; 
the child was taken to the house, and 
the physician summoned. Conscious- 
ness was restored, l)ut the poor little 
l)ack was shockingly mangled, and 
vomiting continued at intervals through 
the night. Dr. Poore looked gruff and 
glum, and took so nuich snuff I thought 
he must choke. After a time he ex- 
pressed a hope of the little boy's recov- 
ery, but his maledictions on the cruel 
teacher were both loud and deep — ' ' the 
infernal scoundrel ; he would like to 
seat him in the i)illory and thrash him 
within an inch of his life ! " This in- 
dignation was universal. There was 
not time to call a regular school meet- 
ing that evening, but the gentlemen of 
the neighborhood (they all had come 
in to see Moses) agreed to meet at the 
school-house the next morning and for- 
):)id Master Adams entrance. Accord- 
ingly, when the young man opened the 
door, he fouii<l liimself confronted by 
half a dozen of the influential men of 
the town, who informed him that his 
services were no longer required ; that 
his presence in that house would not be 
permitted. The discomfitted teacher 



64 



REMINISCENCES 



for a time was terribly angry and defi- 
ant, but at length was obliged to yield. 
At a school meeting in the evening he 
was deposed by a unanimous vote. 
Uncle Enoch sued Mr. Adams, and the 
case was tried at the September term 
in Newbury port. The master was sen- 
tenced to pay the costs of court and 
sixty dollars. The monej^ was put in 
the bank for Moses, and Mr. Adams, 
unable to procure a school, was obliged 
to lower his aspirations and obtain a 
livelihood on the seat of a shoemaker's 
bench. 

I recall' an incident that occurred 
during this trial. Father and Uncle 
Enoch returned one night from town, 
declaring that they had that day wit- 
nessed a sight that never had been seen 
before and never would be again. A 
vessel belonging to the then flourishing 
firm of Farris & Stocker had arriA^ed 
from South America, and their super- 
cargo, Mr. Oliver Putnam (since the 
founder of the Putnam Free School) , 
had brought by it a large sum of mon- 
ey. The Spanish government had pro- 
hibited the exportation of l)ullion, and 
Mr. Putnam had concealed the silver in 
•the sides of the vessel. Carpenters 
were set to work to tear off the sheath- 
ing, and the Spanish dollars, turned as 
black as ink, were taken in l)ushel has- 
kets and carried l)etween two men, to 
be cleansed in a large cauldron, bor- 
rowed from a soap boiler's establish- 
ment, which was }>laced over a fire kin- 
dled for that purpose in Market square. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Though years had elapsed, the mal- 
contents of the parish had not Iniried 
their discontent. Parson Woods had 



failed to gain either their ajjproval or 
regard. A printed sermon in which 
"bawdy French fiishions " were se- 
verel}- denounced had given umbrage 
to a large number of the young people, 
who declared that the language used in 
this public reprimand was more inde- 
cent than any thing they had ever dis- 
played in dress or manner. The cler- 
gyman had become noted for a too 
large development of the organ of ac- 
quisitiveness ; he was accused of ef- 
forts to serve mammon as well as the 
Lord. In families where the pastor 
was held in high regard by the mistress 
of the mansion complaints were often 
made b}' the other members of an un- 
due generosity towards the household 
at the parsonage. I had a 3'oung 
friend whose residence was near, and 
she declared she coidd never have a 
fresh egg to make cake, and that her 
mother really denied herself necessa- 
ries to supply the minister with luxu- 
ries. A stor}' flew like wildfire over 
the parish, to the eflject that Parson 
Woods had made several calls one af- 
ternoon, and at each place asked for a 
small piece of cheese, as Mrs. Woods 
had company from out of town ; that 
at each house he had l)een presented 
with a whole cheese, and that after the 
last visit, as he drove from the door, 
his sleigh tipped upon a drift, when lo ! 
nine cheeses rolled from beneath the 
checked coverlet Avhicli served as a 
sleigh robe. Another subject of ef- 
front Avas the sale of turkeys presented 
at Thanksgiving. This autumn the 
minister declared he could not afltord 
to keep a horse 1 At the announcement 
Mr. Josiah Bartlett, Mr. Joseph New- 
ell and Mr. Paul Bailey each sent him 
a ton of hay, but in a short time both 
the horse and the haj' were sold. The 



OF A nonagen'Aiiia:n". 



65 



next complaint was a lack of fuel. 
The usual quantities which had sup- 
plied his predecessors was said to be 
insufficient ; consequently two addi- 
tional loads were drawn. Lieut. Jo- 
seph Noj'es, an old revolutionary offi- 
cer, was employed to saw and split the 
wood. The morning that he com- 
menced work Parson Woods went into 
the yard, and after looking over the 
pile he said, "Lieutenant, here are 
some nice logs, too good for lire-wood, 
it would be a pity to burn them ; here 
are three or four just right for trunnels, 
put them aside, tliey are too nice for 
fuel." 

The lieutenant made no exact reply, 
but as soon as the minister's back was 
turned, he fell to work witli might and 
main on those identical logs. After 
dinner the parson again came out. Gaz- 
ing hurriedly about, he t'xcitedly ex- 
claimed, "Where are those logs, those 
nice trunnell logs that I Void you to 
save?" 

"Save?" queried tlie wily old officer, 
with an air of bewilderment. 

"Yes, I told you to put them aside, 
that they were too good for lire-wood." 

"Well, really now ! Sometimes I'm 
a little hard o' hearing, parson. I 
thought you told me to split tJiem fine 
logs fust," innocently returned the un- 
truthful old sinner, with a deprecatory 
air. 

"Well, well," said the pastor, "I 
am sorry, but it cannot be helped now. 
I was not aware that 3'ou were deaf, 
lieutenant, is that the cause of your ab- 
sence from divine worship?" 

"Why yes, I used to go regerlarly 
when a youngster, but going into the 
arm}- upsets people. War is a glorious 
thing when one is fighting for one's hb- 
erties, but it kind of onsettles a fellow. 



I've had so many bullets whistling 
round my ears, that half the time it 
seems as if I couldn't hear anything 
else." 

"If you cannot hear, come and sit in 
the pulpit ; I should be most happy to 
have you," the parson replied in his 
inost polite manner, as he turned to re- 
enter the house, 

As the Lieutenant had, said, the war 
did unsettle a great many. Good offi- 
cers made but poor ci^dlians. Lieut. 
Noyes would not have deliberately per- 
formed a bad deed, but his moral sense 
had become somewhat stretched, and a 
good joke Avas the verj' breath in his 
nostrils. Though since the end of the 
war he had led somewhat of a desulto- 
ry life, he always managed to dress 
and appear like a gentleman. The 
next Sunday, to the wonder and con- 
sternation of the congregation, just 
after Parson Woods had taken his 
place in the pulpit, the lieutenant, in 
his best suit, his hair elaboratel}^ frizz- 
ed, powdered and cued, marched up 
the broad aisle with his most imposing 
tread, and slowly ascended the pulpit 
stairs. AMth a profound mihtary sa- 
lute he seated himself l)eside the par- 
son. "What could it mean?" The 
amazement increased, when, as the 
clerg^inan rose to begin the service, 
the lieutenant rose also ; standing a 
little back with his head slightly in- 
clined forward, and his hand l)ehind 
his ear, he continued to occupy his 
post beside the pastor through 
the long prayer and the longer ser- 
mon. As every one knew the old 
scamp was not the least deaf, the}- be- 
gan to surmise that some mischief was 
on foot, but " what was the mystery?" 
After two or three Sabbaths, in which 
the pranky old officer, with the gravity 
' 9 ■ 



66 



REMINISCENCES 



of fort}^ judges, occupied a place in 
the pulpit, the story of the trunnel 
logs became whispered about, and his 
presence there caused such a sensation 
that the tithing man was compelled to 
give him a seat on the long bench in 
front. Auut Ruth Little and others 
declared some judgment must fall ofl 
the reprobate ; but, notwithstanding 
these menaces, he went on his way re- 
joicing, getting more treats than ever 
at the tavern, and a more heart}^ wel- 
come to good cheer throughout the vi- 
cinity. 

Parson Wood's friends were zealous 
in his defence. ' 'A minister had wants 
of which the common people knew noth- 
ing ; he had more calls for money. He 
was a blessed man, a learned man ; his 
thoughts soared above those of the mul- 
titude, — they ought not to be lowered 
by petty cares and the many annoyan- 
ces of this sublunary existence." 

Mrs. Woods' bridal cloak, of white 
satin, had become somewhat defaced, 
and a subscription paper was put in 
circulation the first of^the winter to 
obtain a sum to purchase black satin 
for another. This gave cause for much 
remark. It was averred that many 
gave who could ill attbrd the outlay ; 
some from a naturally generous im- 
pulse, but more from a false pride that 
would not permit them to omit copying 
the example of their more wealthy 
neighbors. Right or wrong, the sub- 
scription was made, and a sufficient 
amount obtained to purchase the satin 
and a handsome sable mutf and tippet. 
The cloak, an elegant one, trimmed 
with rich lace, was made by a commit- 
tee of ladies chosen for that purpose, 
at the residence of aunt Ruth Little, 
and on New Year the articles were pre- 
sented in due form. 



A Baptist society had been estab- 
hshed in New Rowley. Mrs. MolUe 
Little, uncle Enoch Little's wife, had 
been a communicant of this church 
previous to her marriage, and Mr. Lit- 
tle had accompanied his wife to this 
ministration. Finding so much divis- 
ion in our parish, the Baptists organ- 
ized a series of pra3'er and conference 
meetings, which were held at Mr. Lit- 
tle's house. My uncle Parker Smith's 
family also attended the Baptist meet- 
ings, and my two cousins, Hannah and 
Nabby Smith, girls a few years my se- 
nior, frequentl}' came to attend the 
meetings ; I accompanied them a few 
times, but the odd phraseology of some 
of the s})eakers — illiterate persons but 
full of zeal, coupled with the still 
more singularh' expressed ex|3eriences, 
which were nightly related, worked so 
strongly on my risibles, that it was 
difficult for me to maintain a proper 
decorum. Much to the horror of my 
cousins, that which sent the tears roll- 
ing down my cheeks, instead of bring- 
ing any sanctifj'ing convictions, merely 
set me into hj^sterics from suppressed 
merriment, and mother declared "I 
was bad enough anyway, and that she 
would not have me made worse by at- 
tendance at these Baptist gatherings." 
During the previous summer, one hot 
afternoon, aunt Sarah ran down stairs 
with the somewhat startling announce- 
ment that " Brother Sam, in his best 
suit, with saddle-bags across the sad- 
dle, was coming on horse-back up the 
lane." We c^uld scarcel}^ beheve she 
had seen aright. Looking out, we 
found it was no hallucination, but that 
Uncle Sam, in the flesh, was leading 
his horse into the stable. What could 
it mean ? What could have called him 

from home just in the midst of the 



OF A NONAGENARIA]sr. 



67 



English hay season ? To the eager in- 
quiries made on his entrance, he replied 
in his most imposing style, that he had 
been to Lynn to be ordained, that now 
he was a licensed preacher of the INIeth- 
odist persuasion. Gi'andmam' groaned 
over her son's infatuation, and aunt 
Sarah worried about his grass. ''To 
think of his leaving his farm then ! If 
he must be ordained, why couldn't he 
have waited for winter when he could 
be spared." Father laughed ; "he had 
always said Sam never would labor, 
and he should prove a true prophet." 
Lifted into a sphere above minor earth- 
ly affairs, the gentleman departed for 
his home on the morrow, wholly obhv- 
ious to the prognostications of evil 
from his course which burthened the 
minds of his family and friends. 

The interest in the Baptist meetings 
was increasing, when uncle Sam^ made 
us his annual winter visit. As soon as 
his arrival became known he received a 
pressing invitation to preach at Mr. 
Little's Sunday evening, which was ac- 
cepted with evident gratification. He 
somewhat amused the family by his so- 
licitude respecting his dress. As it 
was cold weather, and he had not ex- 
pected to preach, he had come unpro- 
vided with a white necktie. A loan of 
one was solicited, "as it looked more 
clerical." Father laughingly told his 
brother, as he handed him the handker- 
chief, " he saw that he yet retained a 
piece of the old Adam." Aunt Sarah 
contemptuously averred, " that he did 
not live up to his creed — "every earth- 
ly pomp and vanity ought to be re- 
nounced ; " but grandmam' declared 
she was "glad to see that Sam had 
some idea of the fitness of things ; if 
he must preach Methody, it pleased 
her to knpw that he wished to look and 



appear hke a gentleman, and did not 
turn himself into an itinerant ranter." 

The tidings that Mr. Sam Smith was 
to expound the novel doctrines of Meth- 
odism had called together a crowd, and 
the ground rooms of the large house 
were full. After the reading of a por- 
tion of the Scripture came a prayer in 
the usual fervent style ; a hymn having 
been, sung the text was named — Eze- 
kiel 7th chap., 7th verse : " The morn- 
ing is come upon thee, O thou that 
dwellest in the land." From these 
words a powerful discourse in elucida- 
tion of the tenets of the new sect was 
delivered. The speaker had found his 
vocation ; he possessed the gift to en- 
chain an audience, and he held this 
promiscuous assembly in rapt attention 
for over an hour. At the close of the 
sermon up jumped Mr. Silas Moulton, 
then one of Parson Woods' recent con- 
verts,' and in a -fiery, " Hopkinsonian " 
prayer, each one of Mr. Smith's doc- 
trinal ])oiuts was contra verted. This 
brought on an ardent discussion. The 
hour grew late ; Aunt Enoch Smith 
and myself essayed to make our exit 
by the back door. The eager and ex- 
cited throng barred our progress. Da- 
vid Emery, now a tall youth of seven- 
teen, aided our effoi'ts by raising a 
couple of chairs above his head, when 
we managed to squeeze out. The 
night air was refreshing. One after 
another the members of the family 
came home, but it was after eleven 
when father and uncle Sam arrived. 
The preacher was completely exhaust- 
ed. Family prayer was omitted, and 
aunt Sarah filled the long-handled 
warming-pan with bright coals, declar- 
ing as she went to warm the bed, ' 'that if 
it was her brother, she must say he 
was great for argufying, and he had 



68 



REMINISCENCES 



beat Silas Moulton out and out." 
The morrow brought a severe snow 
storm, which blocked the road to an 
unusual degree. In the midst of this 
storm, much to our astonishment. Mr. 
Joseph Ames', one of the chief Baptist 
speakers, came in. He had walked 
the whole distance from Bradford in 
that storm to converse with uncle Sam. 
I became so tired of this discussion, 
of hearing the changes rung and re- 
rung upon the conflicting themes, that 
I kindled a rousing fire in aunt Sarah's 
chamber, and there sought a respite 
from the sound of human tongues, and 
the quiet requisite to an aching head . 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The predictions of evil made at the 
union of Robert Adams and Susan 
Little had been full}' realized. Con- 
sanguinit3% however, could not be as- 
signed as a cause, but a tendency to 
consumption, inherited from his father, 
in the bridegroom. Soon after his 
marriage Mr. Adams had an attack of 
hemorrhage of the lungs ; the next 
summer he rallied and hopes were en- 
tertained of his recovery, but the 
bleeding recommenced, and after a 
season of prostration and suflering, he 
passed away, some two months prior 
to the third anniversary of his marri- 
age. One infant had gone before its 
father, and a second, born after his 
decease, only entered this world to 
pass to another. 

Aunt Suke}-, completely crushed, 
was thus left alone, the care of a farm 
devolving upon her. My cousin Nab- 



by Smith had been with Mrs. Adams 
during her husband's illness, and it 
was decided she should remain. Uncle 
William Little sold the farm he had re- 
cently purchased in Haverhill, and 
came to take charge of his sister and 
her estate. In March aunt Hannah 
Little was married to Mr. James Stick- 
ney. a young man who had for some 
time resided with the brothers and sis- 
ters Dole. A handsome, energetic 
youth, he had won the regard of the 
lone bachelors and maids, and they 
highly favored his match with Hannah 
Little, and had fitted apartments for 
the young couple in their large house. 

The snow which had fallen during 
uncle Sam's visit still covered the 
ground. On the morning of the eigh- 
teenth, father and I rode directly over 
the stone wall dividing the field from 
the street, on our way to grandsir Lit- 
tle's, Init in half an hour the water 
poured in a perfect torrent down the 
liill, the brook rose in an unexampled 
manner, anil the roads became nearly 
impassable. The wedding was appoint- 
ed at eight o'clock Only the family 
and nearest relatives had been invited, 
and it was with extreme difficulty that 
they reached the house. Mr. Stick- 
ney came in looking unusually pale 
and complaining of a lameness in the 
back, caused by a fall the day previ- 
ous. The ladder had slipped as he 
was descending from the hay-mow, and 
he fell with great force directly across 
the machine for breaking flax. The 
sorrow and concern felt at this accident 
was expressed, but no one entertained 
the slightest idea that any ^serious con- 
sequences would ensue, or that it would 
entail any lasting effect. Parson 
Woods having sold his liorse wallved 
over from the main road. • His feet 



OY A NONAGENARIAJSr. 



69 



were thorouglih- saturated. Dry hose 
and slippers were furnished, and 
grandmam' bade me bring the minister 
a glass of wine, as a preventative 
against taking cold, but the clergyman 
said : ' ' if it was just as convenient he 
would prefer a little rum and molasses." 
The toddy having been furnished, the 
company repaired to the parlor. Aunt 
Hannah looked lovely in a white jaconte 
muslin ; 3-011 would have to go a long- 
way, as aunt Judy Dole said, to see a 
handsomer couple. Travelling was so 
difficult, the company dispersed at an 
early hour. The bride and groom re- 
mained at grandsir's till the next day. 
Aunt Sukey and Nabby Smith essayed 
to walk the distance home, but were 
obliged to return and don each a pair 
of men's boots, in order to pass the 
bridge over the brook, and the next 
da}', when uncle Stickney took his wife 
and m^^self home, we were obhged to 
scramble upon the sleigh seat, the water 
poured so over the sides of the large, 
high-backed sleigh. 

The preAdous year had been a sad 
one to our family, and farther calamity 
was in store. In April, uncle Wilham 
Little's only child, a promising lad of 
five 3'ears, died suddenly of croup. 
This was a severe affliction to the 
parents ; the father for a time was 
nearly frantic. The first shock of the 
loss had scarcely passed, Avhen David 
Eaton, one of Uncle Bill's apprentices 
was taken sick with the measles. None 
of the family had had the distemper, 
every one caught it. Aunt Sukey and 
Nabby Smith were sick at the same 
time, and, as I had had the measles, I 
was obhged to act as nurse. My pa- 
tients were quite sick, Nabby was in- 
sane for twent3--four hours. Uncle 
Bill's family were all ill one after anoth- 



er. Aunt Little was very sick, fever 
set in and for several days she was not 
expected to five. Naturally a delicate 
woman, it took a long while for nature 
to rally, and she remained an invalid 
through the smnmer. Just as Aunt 
Little's fever was at its height, the 
news came that Aunt Bartlett was dan- 
gerously sick. Grandmam' Little and 
my mother hurried to town, but, under 
Divine Providence-, with good nursing, 
her life was spared. 

Uncle Stickney had not recovered 
from the effects of his fall, as had been 
anticipated. He took cold while fish- 
ing ; a cough came on, and, instead of 
gaining health as the warm weather ad- 
vanced, day by day he lost both flesh 
and vigor. Help was hired to do his 
work upon the farm, and the most se- 
rious apprehensions began to be enter- 
tained. 

With my multifarious duties. I had 
contrived to plait a new straw boimet 
for myself. Aunt Sarah assisted me 
to make common hats for father and the 
boys. We also fashioned a cunning 
bonnet for my little sister Susan to wear 
upon her first advent at meeting. Upon 
sight of this head gear, little Joe de- 
manded a Sunday straw hat. Aunt 
Sarah said that was a good idea. I 
plaited a fine braid ; the hat was made 
and lined with green silk. Jim thouoht 
he should hke one, only the braid might 
be coarser. When father saw this hat, 
he asked us to make one for him, the 
light hat was ^'so comfortable in warm 
weather." The gentlemen and 3'outh 
of the neighborhood and vicinitj', see- 
ing and liking these hats, came to so- 
licit us to braid some for them. In a 
short time quite a lucrative business 
was estabhshed. In the midst of the 
hurry, one of our cousins, Pattv Noves 



70 



REMES'ISCENCES 



came in, to beg us to braid her a bon- 
net ; she ' ' must have one for the ver}' 
next Sunda}'." ''That is an impossi- 
bility." "Then sew one from this!" 
she exclaimed, seizing a roll of the hat 
braid. "That is too coarse." "That 
is a matter of taste," she returned ; 
"if I have a coarse straw it ma}' set 
the fashion. Just sew the braid as I 
direct." 

Remonstrance was useless. The bon- 
net was sewed. It looked very well, 
and when trimmed was reall}' pretty. 
Pattj^'s joke proved a prophec}', — she 
did set a fashion. Orders came for 
several similar bonnets. This extra 
straw work brought a great hurry in 
the autumn. I was looking forward 
to a little more leisure in the winter 
weather, when I was summoned to the 
Dole place, where with slight intervals 
I remained for several months. Our 
worst fears were realized. Uncle Stick- 
ney was in a confirmed consumption. 
Aunt Hannah, feeble from a recent 
confinement, and worn down by anxie- 
ty, watching, and the care of a sickl}-, 
puny babe, needed my assistance. The 
last of December the feeble, wailing in- 
fant passed from our tearful care to 
the arms of the heavenly angels. This 
was ni}' first experience of the death 
of a babe, and under the circumstan- 
ces I felt that it was not a subject for 
grief, but a beneficent event to both 
mother and child. Aunt Hannah seem- 
ed stunned. »She moved about her hus- 
band's death-bed like one in a trance. 
The brothers and sisters Dole were agon- 
ized at the thought of the loss of their 
adopted son ; the}^ could not be talked 
or prayed into submission. "It was 
hard ; oh, so hard, to see that strong, 
handsome form so fast succumbing to dis- 
ease." Robert Adams had always been 



delicate ; his illness was more gradual ; 
sad as it was it did not seem so heart- 
rending as this. Assistance and sym- 
pathy were tendered from all quarters, 
still it was a dark, dark time ! Aunt 
Sukey, naturally of a less buoyant tem- 
perament than her sisters, sank into a 
morbid melancholy, distressing herself 
with doubts of her late husband's state 
in the other world, as he had made no 
death-bed confession. Uncle Sam 
Smith's visit brought comfort and hope. 
He cheered aunt Sukey and brought a 
peaceful submission to the death-strick- 
en household of our neighbors. We 
began to feel that, though he might not 
attain to a great worldly wealth, he 
possessed that pearl of great price, 
that true riches, before which mere 
earthh^ treasures sink into insignifi- 
cance. 

In April, Uncle Stickney left us. 
His exit had been calm and hopeful. 
A degree of submission had been at- 
tained by those nearest and dearest, 
and Aunt Hannah returned to the old 
life, (yet, alas! how sadly diflferent) , in 
the paternal home, bereft of both hus- 
band and child in little over one short 
year, — a childless widow ere she had 
reached the age of twenty-one. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

A quantity of straw had been stored 
the summer before ;' this spring, orders 
for bonnets and hats came as fast as 
they could be filled. 

As I have stated, Uncle Thurrel's 
only daughter had married Mr. Jona- 
than Smith, the son of the Rev. Dr. 
Smith, the first Baptist clergyman in 



OF A NONAGENAKIA^. 



71 



Haverhill. Mr. Smith kept a store in 
that town. Straw bonnets were be- 
coming so fashionable, Mrs. Smith con- 
ceived the idea of our supplying the 
sale at her husband's estabhshment. 
Hitherto our Ijonnets had remained the 
natural color of the straw. Straw 
work had been commenced in Provi- 
dence, and through some relatives there, 
Mrs. Smith learned the process of 
bleaching. We were greatly pleased to 
become initiated into the mystery, and 
with her native ingenuity, Aunt Sarah 
•contrived a bleachery. Holes were 
bored in the head of a barrel, strings 
were attached to the bonnets and passed 
up through the apertures, which were 
then plugged with wooden spiles ; sul- 
phur sprinkled over embers put in the 
dish of a foot-stove was placed be- 
neath ; the whole being tightened by an 
old quilt, not a fume escaped, and the 
bonnets came forth as white as the im- 
ported. To this period the braid had 
been plaited from whole straw ; this 
year the split straws liegan to come, 
and Aunt Sarah finding that she could 
split straw with a coarse comb, conclu- 
ded to have some combs made for the 
purpose. Comb making had been an 
industry of the town since its first set- 
tlement. Mr. Enoch Noyes, my gz-and- 
mother Smith's nephew, had become 
noted for the manufacture of combs 
and horn buttons. He was a great ge- 
nius, had contrived man}' inventions 
and made much improvement in the 
business. During the Revolutionary 
war, a Hessian deserter, an adept in 
the craft, had chanced to drift into the 
place and was at once employed by Mr. 
Noyes, much to the advantage of the 
trade, which immediately increased in 
extent and importance. Mr. Noyes 
was a great oddity. He would run 



half over the parish bareheaded and 
barefooted. It was no uncommon 
thing for him to appear at our house, 
after dinner of a hot summer day, in 
only a shirt and breeches, having run 
across the fields two miles, "jest to 
take a nooning." A great joker and a 
capital story-teller, his appearance was 
the signal for a general frolic. He was 
fond of telling strangers that his father 
used to say he had ' ' four remarkable 
children : Molly was remarkably hand- 
some, Tim was a remarkable sloven, 
John was remarkably wicked, and 
P^noch was remarkably cunning." To 
this gentleman aunt Sarah applied. As 
might have been expected, he entered 
into the business with characteristic 
zest, and in a short time we were sup- 
plied with half a dozen different-sized 
straw splitters. 

Mrs. Smith, having cut a tiny piece 
of trimming from an imported bon- 
net, brought it for me to imitate. 
How vividly I recall the two long hours 
which I passed, sitting on the chamber 
floor surrounded by the litter of straw, 
patiently weaving and unweaving until 
the secret was obtained. Having ac- 
quired this ornamental cue, 1 invented 
several other decorations with which to 
finish the edge of the bonnets. I also 
learned to make straw plumes and tas- 
sels from examining those on the for- 
eign bonnets. Miss Mary Perkins kept 
a fashionable millinery estabhshment 
in Newbur^'port. Hearing of our straw 
manufacture she rode up to see us and 
immediately ordered bonnets. After a 
time the plain straw became supersed- 
ed by diamond and other fancy plaits. 
These being the ton. Miss Jenkins also 
purloined a bit from the inside of a 
diamond satin straw, and brought it as 
a pattern of a braid. It looked so in- 



72 



REMESriSCENCES 



tricate I nearly despaired of my aliility 
to copy it, but Miss Jenkins would 
not permit me to demur, and as ever}- 
one spoke encouragiugl}- I made the 
effort, and in two or three hours ac- 
complished the task. This was a time- 
\y achievement ; our bonnets were in 
great demand, and we continued the 
business through the warm season for 
several years until the estabhshment of 
straw factories and m}- approaching 
marriage cm-tailed the work ; but aunt 
Sarah continued to braid men's hats 
and supply her friends' bonnets for a 
long time. 

The 3'ear I was seven 3'ears old the 
first incorporated woolen mill in Mas- 
sachusetts was established at the falls 
on the river Parker, in the Parish of 
Byfield in NewbiuT. The machinerj- 
for this factor}' was made in Newbury- 
port by Messrs. Standriug, Armstrong 
& Guppj', agents ; the Messrs. Schol- 
tield and most of the operatives were 
English. The erection of this mill cre- 
ated a great sensation throughout the 
whole region. People visited it from 
far and near. Ten cents was charged 
as an admittance fee.- That first win- 
ter sleighing parties came from all the 
adjacent towns, and as distant as 
Hampstead and Derry, in New Hamp- 
shire. Row after row of sleighs passed 
over Crane-neck hill, enlivening the 
bright, cold days bj' the joyous tones 
of their meny bells. Never shall I 
forget the awe with which I entered 
what then appeared the vast and im- 
posing edifice. The huge drums tliat 
carried the bands on the lower floor, 
coupled with the novel noise and hum 
increased this awe ; but when I reached 
the second floor where picking, card- 
ing, spinning and weaving were in pro- 
gress my amazement became complete. 



The machinery, with the exception of 
the looms, was driven by water pow- 
er, the weaving was b}' hand. Most 
of the operatives were males, a few 
3'oung girls being employed in splicing 
rolls. 

In a few years the first company was 
dissolved, and the mill passed into oth- 
er hands. The Scholfields were suc- 
ceeded by Messrs. Lees & Tajdor. 
These gentlemen were also English. 
New machinery' imported from Eng- 
land for the manufacture of cotton 
goods was put in. Mr. TaA'lor soon 
left, but Mr. Lees continued to operate 
the mill for several years. The estab- 
lishment of this factory brought quite 
a revolution in the domestic manufac- 
tures of the neighborhood. For some 
time previous, in most families hand 
carding had been discontinued, the 
wool having been sent to be converted 
into rolls to the clothier mills of Mr. 
Ben. Pearson or Mr. Samuel Dummer. 
Lees & Taylor made arrangements by 
which this famih* carding could be done 
at their factory both cheaper and better 
than at the smaller mills. The intro- 
duction of cotton opened a new channel 
of industrv. The wea^-ing was still 
performed b}- hand ; as the business 
increased this loom power was not suf- 
ficient to supply the demand for cloths. 
Their goods consisted of heavj' tick- 
ings and a hghter cloth of blue and 
white striped or checked, suitable for 
men's and boj's' summer wear, aprons. 
&,c. The tickings were woven by men 
on the looms at the factory, but much 
of the lighter stuffs were taken into 
families and woven on the common 
house loom. The yarns were spun and 
dyed at the factory ; these could be - 
purchased there, and in lieu of the 
hitherto universal hnen and tow, cotton 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



73 



began to be mixed with flax or woven 
alone. Quite fine cotton fabrics were 
woven ; bleached they looked very nice. 
Stamps on blocks of wood had been 
invented, and with home-made dyes, 
calico was stamped. These chintzes 
were held in high estimation and many 
• ' go-to-meeting gowns" were construct- 
of them, pieces of which have been 
handed down, to be cherished as inesti- 
mable relics of a former generation. 
This cotton spinning brought a new oc- 
cupation to the place. Being prior to 

' Whitney's invention of the cotton gin, 
the material came just as it had been 
gathered from the field, and many of 

' the females in the neighborhood of the 
factory were employed to separate the 
seed from the cotton. For years one 
rarely entered a farm house in the 
vicinity without finding one or more of 
the inmates busy picking cotton. 

A short time prior to the erection of 
the Byfield factory, Jacob Perkins, the 
distinguished inventor and the first en- 
graver of bank bills, completed the 
construction of his first machine for 
cutting nails. Hitherto every nail in 
use hnd been wrought b}- hand, and 
this machine became immediately an 
object of interest, as the community at 
once perceived its value, and justly 
took pride in their gifted townsman. 
Mr. Perkins having hired the old mill 
house of Capt. Paul Moody in Byfield, 
commenced business on the same dam 
as the Factory. This nail factory con- 
tinued in operation some years, then, 
as Amesbnry presented greater facili- 
ties for their manufacture, the business 
was moved to that town. Mr. Perkins 
discovered a process for plating shoe 
liuckles, then universally worn ; lie 
made improvements in fire engines and 
hydraulic machines, and machines for 



boring honey-combed cannon. He was 
also the most skilful pyrotechnist in the 
countr}-. He also discovered a method 
of softening and hardening steel, by 
which the process of engravings was 
greatly facihtated. The Bank of Eng- 
land adopted it for their plates. He 
invented the bathometer, an instrument 
for measuring the depth of the sea by 
the pressure of water ; and the pleo- 
nteter, which measured the rate of a 
ship's sailing. He also demonstrated 
the impressibility of water. Later in 
life he went to London, where his ex- 
periments on high pressure steam ma- 
chinery attracted much attention. He 
contrived a steam gun which could dis- 
charge about a thousand balls a min- 
ute. Experiments with this gun at- 
tracted the attention of the Duke of 
Wellington and other distinguished mil- 
itary men. These inventions enriched 
others, but Mr. Perkins died in Lon- 
don in 1840 without the fortune tr 
which, by his labors he was justly enti- 
tled. 

Mr. Elieu Parsons, one of the sons 
of the Rev. Moses Parsons, the second 
pastor of the church in Byfield parish, 
then an eminent merchant in Boston, 
had purchased an estate contiguous to 
the parsonage, where he had been born 
and brfd. Neither expense or labor 
had been spared in improving and or- 
namenting the grounds and garden of 
this place, which its owner called the 
" Fatherland Farm." Now prepara- 
tion commenced for the erection of a 
spacious mansion. Raisings at that 
period were universally a social festi- 
val, and this, from the superioritj" of 
the building, the elegance of its sur- 
roundings, and position of its owner, 
became an extraordinary fete. Pre- 
parations for the occasion were made 
10 



74 



REMINISCENCES 



upon a scale of unusual magnificence. 
It was arranged that the Rev. Dr. Par- 
ish should deliver an address, and a 
consecrating hymn should be sung. 
The choir in our parish were invited to 
join that in Byfield in singing this 
h^onn. As the female singers were to 
be habited in a uniform of white mus- 
lin and bine satin, there was a great 
stir of preparation, and the whole com- 
munity was roused into a perfect tip- 
toe of expectancy. The important 
day at length arrived. Crowds hi car- 
riages, on horseback and on foot 
thronged to the raising, which was ear- 
ly in the afternoon. Deft hands splen- 
didly did the work ; the stout timbers 
of the spacious building were securely 
upreared ; then the master builder, Mr. 
Stephen Tappan of Newbur}i)ort. aj)- 
peared on the summit, bottle in hand. 
Amid profound silence, for a moment 
he poised himself aloft, then swinging 
the bottle above his head, with a cheer 
which was caught up and iterated and 
reiterated by the multitude, the new 
roof-tree was duly baptized in pure old 
Jamaica. The deafening cheers ended, 
a platform was arranged over a part of 
the floor timbers, to which mounted tlie 
orator, singers and most noted guests. 
The eloquent divine, inspired by the 
scene and hour, did himself more than 
justice, holding his entranced audience 
in breathless attention for nearly an 
hour by a perfect rush of eloquence. 
Next the orchestra took their places. 
A goodUe company, those stalwart 
youths and buxom maidens. The bass- 
viol struck the tune, and the united 
voices floated forth on the still summer 
air, and sang 

" If God refuse the house to build 
The workmen toil in vain." 

A tremendous crash at this point 



drowned the last note, and amid 
screams, cries and shouts the crowd 
upon the platform were hurled into the 
cellar beneath, amidst earth, rubbish 
and broken boards. For a moment 
there was the wildest terror and confu- 
sion. It was some time ere the sem- 
blance of order could be restored, or 
the extent of injury ascertained. Hap- 
pily no bones were broken, but there 
were numerous sprains and contusions. 
The white muslins were sadly rent and 
torn, but after repairing damages a de- 
gree of equanimity was restored and 
the sumptuous entertainment was serv- 
ed. This was followed by various 
pastimes, — wrestling, running and oth- 
er athletic sports. It was dark before 
the crowd dispersed, and the great ]|| 
raising formed a topic of conversation i' 
for months. Most dire calamities were 
prognosticated from the accident, by 
the superstitious. Fatal prophecies 
foredooming the future of the family at 
•• Fatherland mansion." 

Aunt Judy Dole was vehement in 
he-r diatribes. A nephew, Mr. Benja- 
min Wadleigh, who had taken the place 
of the late James Stickney in the 
household, received a severe sprain in 
his shoulder, which incapacitated him 
from labor for some time. "And serv- 
ed him right," the old woman exclaim- 
ed in her most oracular manner. "He'd 
better have staid at home and minded 
his Inisiness than liyty-titying over to 
Byfield to sing psalm tunes at such a 
frolic, and to that great popish stringed 
instrument of Baal, too. Sposin' old 
parson Moses Parsons' son was gwine 
to build a house ; because it was bigger 
than common he needn't make such a 
fuss, other folks had built big houses. 
The saying was, destruction went afore 
a fall ; she guessed destruction would 



or A NONAGENAKIAN. 



75 



come arter, this time. She hoped it 
would I'arn the joung folks sense, — 
show 'em taint all gold that glittered." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Turnpikes were superseding the 
common roads on the more important 
routes of travel, and one was projected 
between XewburA'i:)ort and Boston. A 
company was formed, the shares sold 
and the work commenced. The con- 
struction of this road caused consider- 
ble excitement in the community. 
Most were enthusiastic in its favor, 
while others thought the additional con- 
venience insufficient to repay such an 
outla}'. As .several of our famil}^ were 
stockholders, and David Emery assisted 
on the survey, we were especially in- 
terested. David often passed the Sab- 
bath at his grandfather Little's, and he 
usually dropped* in to talk over the 
work with father. He disapproved of 
the plan of the road — thought it would 
have been better to have l)uilt it to Sa- 
lem, to connect with that from Salem 
to Boston. Then he did not favor an 
exactly straight thoroughfare if it must 
be carried over wide morasses and such 
lofty eminences as the Topsfield hills. 
Though then a mere youth, I think the 
verdict of posterity' would endorse the 
young man's ideas. Through the un- 
counted multitude of obstacles that 
usually arise to impede a public work, 
the road was steadily pushed with re- 
markable energy. Huge hotels and 
spacious stables were erected at points 
convenient for relays, and every then 
modern improvement made for the ac- 
commodation of travel. At the time 



of my first visit to town only one stage 
pUed on alternate days between New- 
bur>port and the capital — going one 
morning and returning the next after- 
noon. I well remember my first sight 
of a stage and the delight with which 
I gazed at the huge leathern conlKy- 
ance, with its gaudily emblazoned yel- 
low body and the four prancing white 
steeds. Soon after relays were estab- 
Ushed and the stage went out and re- 
turned each day. As the travel in- 
creased teams were added and the 
Eastern Stage Company was formed. 

On account of ill health. Col. Stephen 
Bartlett had severed his connection with 
the firm of Peabody & Waterman. 
Confirmed consumption^had been feared 
but after a winter passed in Charleston, 
S. C, Col. Bartlett returned with in- 
creased vigor. Active occupation was 
recommended. The stage company 
were seeking an agent. The position 
w^as offered to Mr. Bartlett, and he im- 
mediately entered upon its duties. This 
appointment was eminently appropriate, 
and the gentleman remained in the em- 
ploy of the company until obliged to 
surrender to the ravages of the fell dis- 
ease which at last claimed him as its 
victim. One afternoon, the summer I 
was sixteen, I rode into town and had 
just entered aunt Bartlett's parlor when 
uncle Bartlett drove to the door, on the 
box of a hack in which were seated my 
aunt Peabody and cousin Sophronia. 
Reining up his pair of spanking bays 
before the open window, he greet- 
ed me : ''I am glad to see you, Sally. 
Put on your bonnet and tell your aunt 
to don hers, and I will give you a ride 
with Mrs. Peabody and Fronie. The 
turnpike is graded to the third mile- 
stone, and I intend that you shall have 
the honor of being the first ladies to 



76 



EEMINISCENCES 



pass over it." Of course I was high- 
ly delighted. We were soon seated. 
My aunts and cousin were in high 
spirits, and altogether it was a very 
merr}' tiijie. There was a little stir of 
enthusiasm amid the group lingering 
abopt the steps of the "Wolfe Tavern," 
and we received many polite greetings 
as we droA'e forward. It was rather 
soft wheeling over the freshl3'-strewn 
gi-avel, but that did not signify ; our 
horses were young and strong, their 
load light, and we dashed forward in 
fine style. The third milestone soon 
appeared. After a slight pause to look 
around, we retraced our steps and 
alighted at aunt Bartlett's, proud of the 
achievement of being able to boast that 
we were the first ladies to ride over the 
Newburyport and Boston turnpike. 

The next 3'ear 1 had another ride 
with my uncle. The Plum Island 
bridge and turnpike had been built the 
previous summer. I was making my 
annual winter visit in town. That day 
I had dined at my uncle Feabody's, and 
we were rising from the table, when 
uncle Bartlett drove to the door in a 
double sleigh, to which was attached a 
splendid span of white horses. He 
was accompanied by Capt. Stoodley. a 
brother of Mrs. AVilliam Bartlett. jr., of 
Portsmouth, N. H. Throwing him the 
reins, uncle Bartlett ran in, exclaiming : 
"Come, girls ; I have a pair of horses 
that I wish to prove, and I Avill give 
3'ou a ride. Wrap up well, fo/ it is a 
snapping cold day." Aunt Peabody 
told us to hasten. " Put on all your 
furs," she added, as she filled a stove 
for our feet. We \yer« quickly en- 
sconced on the back seat, well wrapped 
in bufl'aloes. Uncle Bartlett turned his 
horses toward Plum Island. There was 
not much path, but the powerful steeds 



dashed lightly along. We had pro- 
ceeded to the entrance to the bridge, 
when our further progress was stopped 
by a huge snow drift. With some diflS- 
culty our experienced whip turned his 
team. Proceeding in the direction of 
' ' High street " we soon reached that 
well-trodden thoroughfare. Tliough 
much more sparsely built than now, it 
was a handsome avenue and a pleasant 
drive. 

In my childhood Frog pond was the 
center of a tangled wilderness of alder 
and other bushes, and at the upper end 
there was a frightful ravine. Near this 
guU^' stood the gun house, where the 
cannon belonging to the artillery com- 
pany was kept. Back on the heights 
stood an ancient windmill. Below, near 
the margin of the pond, stretched a 
long rope walk. This was removed to 
give place for the commencement of the 
turnpike.. Back of the pond was lo- 
cated quite an extensive potter}^ for the 
manufacture of brown glazed earthern 
ware. In the year commencing the 
present century the streets of the town 
received much improvement, and in the 
summer yf that year the gulley at the 
head of Green street was filled up. and 
the mall was laid out, graded and railed. 
Capt. Edmund Bartlett gave fourteen 
hundred dollars towards this public im- 
provement, which cost about eighteen 
hundred. In honor of this munificence, 
the park received the name of ' ' Bartlett 
Mall." 

In the summer of 1805 the Court 
house was erected. The building was 
ornamented by the figure of Justice 
holding q scale and sword, which sur- 
mounted the pedestal. St. Paul's 
Church was built that same j-ear, and 
within a short period several handsome 
private residences had also been erect- 



OP A NOTiTAGElSrARIAN. 



77 



ed, adding much to the beaut}' of the 
street. Dexter had increased his im- 
ages ; his plan was in full glory ; Sen- 
tinals mounted guard. Jefferson had 
joined Washington and Adams over the 
front entrance. Beneath the Presi- 
dents was a bass-relief of the Goddess 
of Liberty. An half hour's ride 
brought us to Parsons' tavern on Deer 
island, at the Essex Merrimac bridge. 
This was a noted place for pleasure 
parties. A delightful spot in summer, 
and a noted rendezvous for sleighing 
parties in winter, when a supper and 
dance were enjo^'ed. At the first snow 
a rush was made for Parsons', where 
the first comer was treated to a bottle 
of wine by mine host. Though our 
horses had skimmed over the snow like 
birds, the day was so intensely cold we 
were fairl}" benumbed, and the bright 
wood fire was exceedingly grateful. 
Capt. Stdooley, according to the custom 
of the period, poUtely brought m}^ 
cousin and myself a glass of wine. 
Warmed and refreshed we retraced our 
steps, fully satisfied with, the steed, 
which Col. Bartlett immediatel}' secur- 
ed for the " Stage Company." 

Two other memorable rides fell to 
my destiny that year. Toward spring 
father's ox-cart needed new tires. 
Much to his surprise none could be 
found in Newburyport. Some one di- 
rected him to the store of old Mr. Da- 
vid Howe, in Haverhill, where it was 
said " every merchantable article could 
be bought." As aunt Chase resided in 
Haverhill, father invited me to ride 
with him. It was a raw March morn- 
ing and the sleighing poor. Making 
our way partly in the fields and pas- 
tures, partly in the road, we reached 
"Cottle's Ferry;" there we took the 
river. The ice was strong but full of 



seams made by cracks which had been 
frozen. Our horse, a spirited mare, 
feared danger, and as she reached one 
of these seams, with a leap would 
bound over it, then proceed at a two- 
fort^'-pace to the next ; then came an- 
other bound, and in this way the jour- 
ney was made. 

My aunt resided in a large, old-fash- 
ioned brick mansion, picturesque^ sit- 
uated on the right l»ank of the Merri- 
mac, about half a mile below Haver- 
hill village. The road separated it 
from the river, and in front a landing 
led directly to the house. Leaving me 
at the door father drove to the village, 
where he procured iron which he lashed 
under the sleigh. Having dined at 
Mrs. Chase's we started for home. 
The rattling of the iron started Kate 
still more, and the race was greater 
than in the morning. I never was 
more thankful than when the Ferry 
was again reached, and we were once 
more on terra firma. 

My other race was in the autumn. 
It was customary for the young ladies 
of the neighborhood to give social tea 
parties of an afternoon, at which we. 
assembled at an earl}' hour, dressed in 
our best, with our go-abroad knitting 
work, usually fine cotton, clocked hose. 
Some of these clocks comprised the 
most elaborate patterns. After tea 
the knitting was laid aside. As the 
evening drew on the beaux began to 
appear, then games, or dancing, were 
enjoyed. At this period the fear of 
Parson Wood's anathema had in a 
measure passed and dancing had been 
general^ resumed. We were permit-* 
ted to indulge in the recreation at my 
uncle Tenney's when the deacon was 
from home. 

Mr. Benjamin Hill's son, Eliphalet 



78 



EEMrNTSCENCES 



had become affianced to Miss Sarah 
Coffin, of "Scotland," Oldtown parish. 
The 3'oung lad^^ had come to paj- Mr. 
Hill's family a visit, and the Misses 
Hills gave one of these tea-parties in 
her honor. Mr. Hill's residence was 
two miles from ours, and father direct- 
ed me to go in the chaise. "Liph. 
Hills will take care of your horse, Sal- 
lie, and you can take up the deacon's 
girls as j'ou go," said he, as he went 
out, after dinner. We had recently 
purchased a new '' fall back chaise;" 
our old one had been a square-topped. 
I was somewhat proud of the new 
equipage, and of my spirited mare. 
Trained from infancy to ride and drive, 
I was a fearless horsewoman. Jim 
harnessed Kate, and I drove over to 
uncle Tenney's, where I was joined by 
my cousins Joan and Lj-dia. The af- 
ternoon and evening were passed most 
pleasantly. I recollect leading down a 
new contra figure with my second cous- 
in, Billy Noyes, who was a capital 
dancer — we two usually headed the 
set. Fun and frolic ruled the hour till 
after nine o'clock, when my horse was 
brought to the door. There were other 
vehicles, and gentlemen's and ladies' 
saddle horses, awaiting. My cousins 
and I sprang into our chaise and I 
drove forward. We had reached the 
summit of Plummer's hill when Kate 
began to prick up her ears and, with a 
snifi", to gather in her paces. The clat- 
ter of approaching hoofs struck m}' 
ear, and, before I could realize the sit- 
uation, William Thurrell and my cousin 
Wilham Smith rushed past on horse- 
back, the horses going at the top of 
their speed. One took the right, the 
other the left of my chaise. As they 
swept past, Kate gave a snort and, 
springing forward, joined in the race. 



Down we went, at a break-neck speed, 
down the steep declivity, the loose 
stones of the rough road flying in every 
du-ection. As the horse was beyond 
my control, all I could do was to hold 
the reins as tightl}' as possible, but, as 
the}' were new, I felt secure. On we 
dashed, through "Tea street." It was 
impossible for me to turn to take my 
cousins home, nor could I stop until the 
schoolhouse was reached. Here m}' 
companions were able to alight, but 
were obliged to walk back about half a 
mile, while I proceeded up Crane-neck 
hill at a more leisurelv pace. The 
young men were somewhat frightened 
at the escapade, but, upon the whole, 
enjo^'ed it vastly, declaring, much to 
my vexation, that "little Sally Smith 
can beat the best jockey in the whole 
country around." 



CHAPTER XX. 

In contradistinction to the church 
from which they had separated, our 
forefathers had established a severe 
simplicity in public worship, which, as 
the country grew older, and societ}' in- 
creased in liberalit}- and cultm'e, became 
distasteful to the more youthful portion 
of the population. Deaconing hymns 
had become nearly obsolete, and musi- 
cal instruments began to appear in the 
singing seats. 

Though severe and strict in theologi- 
cal dogmas, Parson Woods was, upon 
the whole, a progressive man. Through 
his influence our choir had greatly im- 
proved in singing, and when it was pro- 
posed to have a viol accompaniment, he 
made no objection. Accordingly, one 



OF A I^TONAGENAKIAN. 



79 



fine summer morning, Mr. Ben. Brown, 
with an important air, marched up the 
gallery stairs, bearing his bass-'sdol in 
his hand. There was a sensational stir 
■throughout the singing seats. Mr. Ed- 
mund Little tiptoed to and fro. There 
were nods and whispers, shutfliug of 
the leaves of singing books ; then came 
the preliminary screams, screeches, 
grunts, growls, sees and saws from the 
viol. While this was proceeding, the 
faces of the congregation were a study 
worth}" of a Hogarth. Amazement sub- 
sided into curiosity ; the younger por- 
tion sat in smiling expectancy, while 
then' elders glanced at one another, dis- 
approval written in every wrinkle of 
their sour visages, and the children 
gazed with wide open eyes and open- 
mouthed astonishment. At the first in- 
timation of the idea of having this in- 
strumental accompaniment, aunt Judy 
Dole had entered her vehement protest 
against it. She and her sisters, occu- 
pied seats upon the women's bench in 
the galler3\ At the first sight of Mr. 
Brown, the old lad3''s face grew rigid ; 
stern determination and severe disap- 
proval became legible in ever}' line. 
Parson Woods and his family came in, 
and the usual masculine rush followed ; 
the last loiterer had become seated and 
the last pew door had been slammed. 
Parson Woods, as was customarj', 
opened the service with a short prayer ; 
then the hymn was named and read, 
and the choir arose, in rustling impor- 
tance. Mr. Brown, with the air of an 
emperor, drew his bow across the 
strings. At the first sound, up jumped 
aunt Judy, and, with indignant opposi- 
tion in every creak of the high^heeled 
channeled pumps, she firmly strode 
through the gallery and down the stairs, 
then, passing out at the front door,* 



seated herself on the horse-block, re- 
maining there during the service. At 
its close she rode home with the rest of 
the family, but it was a long time ere 
the prim maiden became siifflciently 
reconciled to the new fashion to appear 
in her wonted place on the Sabbath. 

The second year of her widowhood, 
aunt Hannah Stickney married Mr. 
Samuel Xoyes, of the "Farms," New- 
bury. This gentlemen, a descendant 
of John, oldest son of Nicholas Noyes. 
a widower with four children, was a 
cousin of her first husband. Many 
wondered that so young a women as 
aunt Hannah should feel willing to as- 
sume the responsibihty of rearing and 
training so many small children . Though 
the young widow had returned to her 
father's house, she could not make it 
the girlish home which she had left with 
a heart so full of buoyant hope. Mr. 
Xoyes had been most kind in his minis- 
trations during Mr. Stickuey's illness, 
upbearing the fainting souls of the sick 
man and his family, by his firm faith, and 
devotional spirit. Through every trial 
he had been .a true comforter to Mrs. 
Stickney, thereby winning her gratitude 
and afiectionate interest. This good 
man needed a vt'ife, his children needed 
a mother, she could supply this need. 
Cheerfully and lovingly her life's work 
was assumed. How well this task was 
performed, the reverent respect and 
love of her family attested. To no one 
could more properly be applied the scrip- 
ture text, "Her children rise up and 
call her blessed ; her husband also, and 
he praiseth her." The second nuptials 
were strictly private, the ceremony be- 
ing performed at the residence of the 
Rev. Dr. Parish, in Byfield. The little, 
black doctor, greatly diverted one of 
his favorite parishioners, Mrs. Moses 



80 



KEMINISCEIfCES 



Colman, by the information that the 
day previous he had married the hand- 
somest woman lie ever saw, to Mr. Sam 
NoN-es. ''Such black eyes, Mrs. Col- 
man, such a complexion, and such a 
sweet 3'et sparlding expression. Oh, 
"she is a beauty, Mrs. Colman ! I have 
thought you as handsome as any woman 
I ever saw, but this one is handsomer ; 
yes," musingly added the divine, as he 
leaned back in his chair and critically 
examined his companion's face through 
half closed eyes, "yes, Mrs. Colman, I 
must decide that of the two she is the 
handsomest." 

Much amused, Mrs Colman inquired 
the beauty's name. 

"Hannah Stickney ; her maiden 
name was Little." 

"Why Doctor, she is my own cous- 
in," the lady replied with surprise. 

"Well, you may be proud of your 
cousin, Mrs. Colman, and I must say 
your family may be proud of them- 
selves. Such a splendid set of black- 
eyed queens ! Why they are positively 
regal ! Yes, yes, positively regal ! " 
This was too good to be kept private, 
and the black-eyed queens were duly 
informed ot the distinguished doctor's 
tribute to their lovhness. 

The prostration of grief at length 
passed, and aunt Adams began to take 
her wonted interest in the cares and 
duties of life. As the house was in- 
convenient for two families, the second 
vear of her widowhood Mrs. Adams 
took the farm into her own manage- 
ment. Mr. Adams had built a shoe- 
maker's shop when he first took posses- 
sion of the premises. This was hired 
by two or three .young men, former ap- 
prentices of uncle Bill Little. Having 
come of age, they commenced business 
for themselves, boarding with aunt 



Adams, Nabby Smith still being re- 
tained as an assistant. 

As soon as aunt Hannah had become 
established in her new home, aunt 
Adams and m3-self were invited to pay 
her a visit. Accordingly, one warm 
August morning, we set out. We took 
aunt Adams' chaise and our horse. 
We had passed the factory and were 
approaching the "Fatherland Farm," 
when the pin broke and the right wheel 
dropped. Luckily, the horse stopped 
instantly, and I sprang out and held 
her head while aunt Adams could 
aUght. What next was to be done? 
Looking around, I espied Mr. Gorham 
Parsons and some workmen in an adja- 
cent field. I started to gain their as- 
sistance, but Mr. Parsons, perceiving 
our dilemma, came forward to meet me, 
accompanied by one of the men, who 
proved to be Joe Gould, who was often 
emplo3-ed at our farm. Gould took the 
chaise to Mr. Moses Dole's blacksmith 
shop, which was a short distance be- 
yond, and Mr. Parsons escorted aunt 
Adams and myself to the house, which 
was now finished and furnished in great 
elegance, being the most imposing man- 
sion in the vicinity ; with its well-or- 
dered stables and other appointments, 
forming an establishment of which the 
proprietor might well be proud. The 
housekeeper, Mrs. Plummer, was called, 
and we were shown into a parlor. A 
bell rang above stairs, succeeded h\ 
much running to and fro. Next a ne- 
gro page flung wide the door, and, with 
a profound obeisance, ushered in Mr. 
Parsons, supporting on his arm a stout, 
florid-complexioned woman, habited in 
a white dimitv wrapper, her head 
adorned by a crape turban, [surmounting 
a frisette of light curls ; her gouty feet, 
encased in velvet slippers, were still 



OF A K^ONAGENARIAIN'. 



81 



further assisted by a gold-head ed cane. 
This lady, Madame Ehen Parsons, Mr. 
Gorham Parsons' mother, was followed 
by Mrs. Plummer, bearing a fan and 
scent-bottle, while the rear of the pro- 
cession was brought up by a young 
waiting maid, loaded with a footstool, 
shawl and cushions. 

The ceremony of introduction over, 
after nmch fixing and fussing, chang- 
ing from one window to another, ar- 
ranging and rearranging of footstool 
and cushions, Madame Parsons at 
length became seated and at leisure to 
turn her attention to her visitors. She 
expressed delight on learning that we 
were relatives of her friend Mrs. Moses 
Colman, of whom she spoke in the 
highest terms. Her sons also received 
the meed of praise. As they often 
went on business between the " Fath- 
erland Farm " and Mr. Parsons's es- 
tate in Brighton, the lady had made 
their acquaintance. 

I well remembered David Emery's 
first \asit to Boston, then a lad of 
twelve, — a most remarkable event it 
then seemed to me, a ten year old girl. 
How eagerly I listened to ever}'^ minu- 
tse of the tour which was made in com- 
panj' with his elder brother, Jeremiah 
Colman. They took two pigs of the 
famous *" By field" breed from the 
" Fatherland Farm" to Brighton, in a 
spring cart, drawn b}' a favorite family 
mare named Dorcas. The journey was 
made in one da}^ and they returned on 
the next. The night was passed at 
the residence of Mr. Eben Parsons in 
Boston. This was an ancient structure 
on Summer street. A fiight of steps 
led directly from the sidewalk to the 
front door which opened into a square 
hall that was used as a parlor ; ■ in the 
rear, stood a large stable, and in front 

11 



stretched a common upon which Mr. 
Parsons's two cows were pastured. 

Cake and wine served we were invit- 
ed into the garden, which lying on a 
gentle declivity was laid out in terra- 
ces, the walks bordered by trim hedges 
of box. There was a variety of choice 
flowers and fruit. Having been regaled 
with fine specimens of early pears and 
each presented with a magnificent bou- 
quet ; as our chaise had arrived, neatly 
repaired, we made our adieus amid mu- 
tual compliments and hopes of contin- 
uing our acquaintance thus accidentally 
formed. A few moments' ride brought 
us to " Dummer Academy," — the Gov. 
Dummer Mansion House, the same fine 
specimen of colonial architecture it is 
to-daj'. The Academy was the old 
building, a gambrel-roofed, one-story 
structure with a low, dome-capped 
belfry facing the highway. This, the 
" Alma Mater" of David Emery, the 
Colman boys and other youthful 
friends, was to me a spot of much in- 
terest. 

Crossing the bridge over the river 
Parker we soon found ourselves in the 
precincts of the "Farms." As Aunt 
Adams wished to call upon relatives of 
her late husband, we stopped at the 
residence of Mr. Israel and the widow 
Liffe Adams. We found Mr. and Mrs. 
Israel Adams seated either side of the 
wide fire-place, in which smouldered a 
few embers. Their daughter Poll}' was 
knitting by the window. She expressed 
great pleasure at seeing us, and as she 
had been a favorite schoolmate of Da- 
vid Emery's, and I had often heard him 
speak of her, I was happy to make the 
acquaintance of the belle and heiress of 
the neighborhood. Mrs. Lifl^e Adams 
and her daughter Eunice were weaving 
in a shop contiguous. Polly having 



82 



REMINISCEITCES 



summoned them to the house, a great 
rejoicing ensued. They were dehghted 
to see their nephew's widow, and I was 
warm!}' welcomed. The}' all spoke 
with the greatest satisfaction of Mr. 
Noyes' good fortune in securing Aunt 
Hannah for a wife. After a pleasant 
call we took leave with a promise to 
take tea with them on the next after- 
noon. A few moments brought us to 
the No3-es homestead, a large, square 
house, surrounded by barns and other 
farm buildings. Maj. Noyes occupied 
the lower, and his son the upper half. 
I knocked at the front door, but as no 
one came I stepped into the hall ; as 
my knock was evidently unheard, I 
made my way through a back room to 
the long kitchen and there I found the 
senior Mrs. No3-es. The old lady was 
washing the large hearth, exhibiting in 
the process an excess of neatness, 
which I never saw either before or since. 
She had gathered the remnants of the 
morning fire on a shovel and was wash- 
ing every brick. I quite startled the 
good woman, but upon her learning who 
I was, and that Aunt Adams was wait- 
ing outside, she expressed much joy at 
our coming, and despatched the maid 
servant for Aunt Hannah, who was in 
the garden. M}- aunt came with all 
speed. As we were the first members 
of her family that she had seen since 
her marriage, her greeting was very 
cordial. The male members of her 
family were in the meadows, the chil- 
dren at school ; as the school-house 
was at some distance the}' dined at their 
uncle Nat Moody's, whose residence 
was near to it, consequenth* we had a 
nice, eas}' time, all to ourselves. In 
the afternoon, Grandmam' ]S'o3-es and 
Miss Beck}', a single daughter, joined 
us in Aunt Hannah's room. Between 



five and six the children came home, a 
nice girl often, quite a little "help" 
to her step-mother, and two bright 
bo3's, whose atfections she had evident- 
ly won. At dusk the " men folks " ar- 
rived. The two gentlemen expressed 
great i)leasure at meeting us. The ma- 
jor, a gallant man of the old school, 
like his son and the Rev Dr. Parish, 
was a great admirer of black eyes. He 
was pleased to be exceedingly compli- 
mentary, I saw that Aunt Hannah was 
a favorite with the old gentleman, as 
she evidently had become with the 
whole family. After tea, as it was a 
bright moonlight evening, we walked 
out to the family burial place, which 
was situated on a slight eminence in a 
pleasant grove back of the house. 

The next afternoon, accompanied by 
aunt Hannah and Miss Becky Noyes, 
we paid the proposed visit to the 
Adams family. We enjoyed their 
company, and were most hospitably' en- 
tertained. At tea we were joined by 
Mrs. Liffe Adams' son, Rol)ert, a bash- 
ful and eccentric stripling of eighteen. 
Much to my amusement and that of 
m}' two aunts, every endeavor was put 
forth, b}' his mother and other relatives, 
to render the young man companiona- 
ble to me. Sh' promptings were given 
on every hand to induce hinl to show 
his gallantry, but the poor youth was 
sadl}' at a loss, completely discomfited. 
Mrs. Adams, acting, perhaps, upon the 
principle that children left alone the 
better facilitate their acquaintance, after 
tea took the others to look at her cheese. 
Poor Robert, thus cast upon his own 
resources, did his best at being agreea- 
ble, but his efforts were so ludicrous 
that, after a vain endeavor to maintain 
composure, I was obliged to rush into 
the front 3'ard, under the pretence of 



OF A N"OI^AGE]!^ARIAN. 



83 



looking at the sweet balm, but iu real- 
ity to suppress my risibles. The rest 
joined me, and, as aunt Adams thought 
we had better return that night, we 
soon took leave. A pleasant ride, with- 
out any adventure, carried us home. 
Our visit had been most satisfaetorj-, 
and we assured our friends that, how- 
ever much others might doubt, we were 
certain that aunt Hannah had not mis- 
taken her vocation. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Aunt Susy Dole was a confirmed in- 
valid, and sometimes had ill turns, when 
a watcher was required. At the period 
of Mr. Stickney's and the baby's ill- 
ness I had been so much in the family 
that the sisters had been in the habit of 
sending for me at the slightest ailment. 
One sultry, foggy night, the first of 
September, a summons came to watch 
with aunt Susy. Our straw work had 
been unusually pressing, and I really 
felt unable to sit up all night. Aunt 
Sarah declared I should not go, " that 
Sus}' Dole no more needed a watcher 
than a cat needed two tails." Mother, 
who always considered every one's com- 
fort before her own, thought I had bet- 
ter go. About eight o'clock I went. 
I found the brothers and sisters seated 
in the kitchen, the door being ajar into 
the room where aunt Susy lay in bed. 
After a little chat, a candle was placed 
on the round stand, when uncle Amos 
proceeded to read a chapter from the 
Bible. The old gentleman was troub- 
led with a cough ; he always kept a 
mug of colts-foot tea handy on the 
dresser. He would read a few verses 



and stop to cough ; then taking a sip of 
the tea he would proceed, and in this 
way, the long chapter was at length fin- 
ished. Then each rose and bowing 
over their chair, reverently joined in 
the long prayer, which, like the read- 
ing, was frequentl}" interrupted by 
coughs and sips of the medicine. Un- 
cle Amos would have been shocked at 
an^'thing that bordered on rituahsm. 
The bare mention of a liturgy was 
enough to raise the hair from his brow, 
3'et, by custom, he had brought this 
daily prayer into a set formula, which 
scared}' varied from day to day. He 
prayed for every body and every thing : 
"The president, vice-president and 
both houses of congress ; the_ govern- 
or, the lieut. -governor, the clerg}', the 
colleges and schools ; the aged, infirm 
and dying ; the pensioners, the poor 
and aflflicted ; travellers by land and 
all those that go down to the sea in 
ships." The lengthy petition ended, 
the family retired and I entered upon 
my duty. Aunt Susy seemed verj' 
comfortable, said " her abb tea was all 
that she should need, but that must be 
kept hot." I added a few sticks to the 
smouldering fire, and placed a pewter 
porringer of balm tea on the embers. 
After inquiries respecting aunt Hannah 
and her new home, the invalid fell 
asleep. Screening the candle, I took 
a pile of " Newburyport Heralds," (un- 
cle Amos was a constant subscriber to 
that paper) , and whiled away a couple 
of hours ; then aunt Susy awoke and 
demanded the tea ; to my chagrin it was 
not warm enough to suit, and I was 
compelled to reheat it. When it was 
read}', my patient was again in sound 
slumber. Fearing that she might 
awake and ask for the tea, I kept up the 
fire until the heat became intolerable. 



84 



EEMENTSCEl^CES 



Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I opened the 
outer door, but was met b}' such a 
swarm of mosquitos, engendered by the 
vicinity of the pond, that it was instant- 
ly closed. 1 returned to the bedroom 
and sinking into aunt Susy's easy chair, 
unintentionally dropped asleep. When 
I awoke the room was pitchy dark, m}' 
head was in a whirl and every limb 
ached. I sprang for a candle, but was 
so turned round by the sudden awaken- 
ing it was difficult to find the table ; at 
length the candle, a small dip with a 
tow wick, was lightened, the fire re- 
plenished, and much to my relief the 
herb tea boiling when aunt Susy awoke. 
It suited this time. Dawn began to 
break, and aunt Judy relieved my vigil. 
The sick woman bade me good morn- 
ing, with many encomiums upon my 
skill as a nurse, declared I had been 
the best watcher she had had. I ar- 
rived at home in time to assist in set- 
ting off father and the boys, who were 
going to Plum Island to rake the last 
freight of hay for that season. It was 
an exceedingly sultry morning, but 
about eleven o'clock a thunder shower 
came up, after which the wind changed 
to north-east : a drenching rain set in 
accompanied b}' a high wind, which, as 
the afternoon advanced, grew into a 
tremendous gale. We were much Avor- 
ried respecting father and the boys, as 
they did not return, but concluded that 
they had sought shelter at one of the 
two farm houses at the lower end of the 
island. 

With some difficulty we managed to 
get the cows and tie them up in the 
barn. The milking and other chores 
done, we tried to pass a cheerful even- 
ing, but it did not avail, and a some- 
what sleepless night followed. The 
morning broke cloudy and misty, l)ut 



the wind had subsided. The cows had 
been put in a part of the field which 
had been railed off for fall feed. The 
bordering wall was lined by apple 
trees ; so many apples had blown to 
the ground we dared not turn the cows 
to pasture till they were gathered. The 
grass and apples were cold and wet, 
and b}' the time I had finished picking 
them, a tooth that had been troublesome 
was aching excruciatingly. Father and 
the boys returned that afternoon. They 
had been subjected to a cold and wear- 
isome experience. In company with 
numbers of other haymakers, thej^ had 
received shelter at the "Cross Farm," 
and slept in the barn under an ox-cart. 
Happy at their safe return, I ban- 
daged my face and essayed to sleeji. 
It was useless. I tried cold water and 
hot, doves, ginger, poultices, and 
everything that could be suggested, to 
relieve the pain, but in vain ! Two de- 
cayed teeth ached with an intolerable 
pcrsistenc}' that no remedy would re- 
lieve, and I came to the conclusion that 
cold steel would l)e the onh' panacea. 
Tired as he had been, I was in such 
distress, my young brother Joseph 
roused himself, and, after an early 
breakfast, we set forth for Dr. Poore's 
residence on the main road. The doc- 
tor had gone into the pasture to fetch 
his horse. Mrs. Poore, who was a fav- 
orite cousin of m}' mother's, gave me a 
most S3'mpathetic welcome. "It was a 
shame to lose two teeth ; could not 
something be done to save them?" 
Glad as I should have been to have ar- 
rived at a contrary decision, I felt that 
they muvst come out, and the doctor, 
finding that the sight of him did not 
scare away the pain, concurred in this 
o})iuion. I was seated in an arm chair 
in the centre of the room, and Mrs. 



OF A N^ON^AGENARIAK. 



85 



Poore was directed to hold my head. 
A 3'oung lady school teacher, who was 
a boarder in the family, took a stool, 
and, placing it at my side, sat down to 
watch the doctor and the gum. I 
should have liked to have poked her 
over, but as neither the doctor nor 
Mrs. Poore entered an}^ remonstrance 
at what I deemed an impertinence, of 
course I remained passive. At sight 
of the cruel-looking, old-fashioned in- 
struments, my little brother turned pale, 
and I could not repress a shudder. 
Mrs. Poore gave me a sympathetic hug, 
and the doctor applied the cold steel. 
The instrument was found to be too 
large, and he proceeded to wind it with 
his bandanna. I thought of the addic- 
tion to snutf, but there was no time for 
squeamishness. The instrument was 
again on ; a jam, a screw, a twist, a 
pull, and ni}' molar flew across the 
room. The good doctor was triumph- 
ant — "• such a splendid pull ; 1 never 
had better success ! " 

My brother heaved a sigh of relief, 
the school mistress settled herself for 
another good look, kind Mrs. Poore 
handed a glass of water, then again 
pityingly- took my head between her 
hands. More trouble with the instru- 
ment slipping, another jam, screw, and 
a crash that 1 thought lifted my scalp, 
and sent sparks flying from my eyes, 
this second tooth was broken even with 
the gum. After giving a few moments' 
rest, the doctor proceeded to pry out 
the root. He jammed and punched to 
no purpose, until nature could bear no 
more, and I sank back almost un- 
conscious. My brother started up, 
nearly upsetting the school teacher in 
his eagerness, and vehement!}- protest- 
ed against any further operation. Mrs. 
Poore thought he was right, and the 



doctor, somewhat reluctantly, desisted 
from his eftbrts to extract the root. 
It would "loosen and come out," he 
thought, but he feared I would snffev 
some time. I was too much exhausted 
to think ; all I could do was to endure. 
The horse had to walk the most of 
the way home, as the least jar was ex- 
cruciating. My face swelled fearfully, 
and my neck and shoulders were so 
stiff, I could not lie down for two or 
three nights ; ■ all the nourishment I 
could take was at the corner of my 
mouth from one of the old fashioned 
tea spoons. Weeks passed ere I could 
resume my wonted occupations. I had 
not fully recovered at Thanksgiving. 
As Nabby Smith had gone home and 
aunt Adams felt blue alone, father took 
me to pass the afternoon with her ; Da- 
vid Emery had come to spend the fes- 
tival at his grandfather's, and towards 
night he and uncle Joe Little came in 
with Lewis Hatch and William Smith ; 
tlie two latter boarded with aunt Ad- 
ams. The visitors received a cordial 
greeting, and my aunt insisted that un- 
cle Joe and David should remain to tea. 
A merry time ensued ; David amused 
us with the description of an adven- 
ture that he had experienced that morn- 
ing. In a hurry to start for "Crane- 
neck," he rose, the first in the house, 
at dawn. Finding no tinder in the tin- 
der box with which to light the fire, he 
fixed the kindlings, and taking down 
the old " Kings Arm ".from the brack- 
ets over the mantel, placed it across 
the andirons, and pouring a little pow- 
der into the pan, sprang the trigger — 
a bang, concussion that nearl}' sent 
him heels over head, while hvick and 
mortar flew in everj- direction. Bump, 
bump, resounded from above, as the 
snoozers sprang from their beds, while 



86 



EEMrOTSCENCES 



Mr. & Mrs. Colman rushed from their 
bedroom on the ground floor en disha- 
bille. 

"What is it, David?" shouted the 
old gentleman. 

"My son, what have 3'ou done?" 
screamed his mother, while the remain- 
der of the family rattled down stairs, 
querying " what is the matter?" The 
commotion subsided, explanation fol- 
lowed. The gun which David had 
supposed empty, Daniel had loaded the 
previous evening in order to fire a 
Thanksgiving salute in the morning. 

"Well, we've had the salute," said 
his father, "a deuce of a salute ; I hope 
you'r' satisfied ;" and amid jokes and 
laughter the brick and mortar was 
cleared. The stout, old chimney had 
well withstood the charge, one jamb 
was somewhat shattered, but no great 
damage had been done ; but Mrs. Col- 
man concluded "that in future she 
would ensure a good stock of tinder, 
that no similar sportsman-like effort 
should be made in hghting the kitchen 
fire." 

The 3'oung man was a good mimic, 
and possessed considerable theatrical 
talent, and he related this instance with 
such inimitable drollery, that the laugh 
which I was fain to indulge in, fairly 
took the twist from my jaw, and 
thenceforward my recovery was rapid. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

The wealth and superior attractions 
of Aunt Adams brought her many 
suitors, but for four years her heart 
remained constant to the memory of 
the early loved ; then it began to be 



whispered that she showed an inclina- 
tion to favor the suit of Mr. John 
Coker. 

Robert Coker, 3'eoman, born in 1G06, 
came to Newbmy with the first settlers, 
and died May 19th, 1690, aged 84. 
His wife, Catharine, died Ma}' 2nd, 
1678. Their children were Joseph, 
Sara, Benjamin and Hannah, 

Joseph Coker married Sara Hathorne 
April 13, 1665. Children: Sara, who 
died November 30th, 1667, Benjamin, 
Sara and Hathorne. 

Samuel Coker, son of Hathorne, 
owned an extensive tract of land at the 
north part of Newburyport. 

Mr. Coker joined the societ}" of 
"Friends," and his son, Thomas, who 
inherited the estate and erected several 
houses in that part of the town, was of 
the same society. The family burial 
place was in a lot on Washington, 
nearly opposite the head of Strong 
street. Thomas Coker married Sarah 
Greenleaf. John was their oldest son. 

The family arms are : 




AR(JENT ON A BEND UtJLES, THREE LEOP- 

akd's heads ok. crest, — A moor's 

HEAD, COUPED AT THE SHOITL- 

DERS, full paced FPU, 

WREATHED ABOUT 

THE TEMPLES. 

For some 3'ears Mr. Tliomas Coker 



OF A XONAGENAEIAJSr. 



87 



had cultivated a farm in the lower par- 
ish, Newbury, where he had recently 
died very suddenly. John thus became 
not only the staff' of his widowed 
mother, Init the head of a large family 
of young brothers and sisters. His 
filial and fraternal devotion won Mrs. 
Adams's regard. Handsome, intelli- 
gent, highly respected, and a practical 
farmer, the match appeared exceeding- 
ly proper, as the young man was every 
wa}' qualified for a companion and pro- 
tector tt) the youthful widow. The en- 
gagement was at length announced, 
but the marriage was not solemnized 
until the following Octol)er. The wed- 
ding was private, but the couple were 
the centre of observation, the next Sun- 
day. "Walking out bride," was one 
of the customs of the time. Few finer 
looking couples ever paced up the aisle 
of the sacred edifice : the bridegroom 
with his nicely cued hair, and light 
drab surtout, the bride habited in a 
white, dimity flounced dress, a lilac 
satin ; short pelisse, edged by rich 
black lace, and a salmon colored plush 
bonnet, surmounted by tossing white 
plumes. 

Mr. Coker took his place most de- 
corously as the head of the household, 
and he immediately instituted many 
improvements both within doors and 
witiiout, the illness and death of the 
former proprietor having left the new 
buildings and other appurtenances of 
the farm in need of care and labor for 
completion. 

I have previously mentioned that 
amongst the apprentices who came to 
the place with Mr. William Little was 
a youth by the name of Lewis Hatch. 
This young man, left an orphan when 
a mere child, had purchased his free- 
dom when Mr. Little left his sister's 



residence, and then a youth of eighteen, 
he commenced business for himself, 
working in the shop on the place, and 
boarding with Mr. Adams. 

Politics at this period waxed fierce 
and furious. John Coker was an en- 
thusiastic " Jacobin," Lewis Hatch as 
strong a " Federalist." Constant dis- 
putes occurred, not pleasant in a 
household. Mr. Hatch concluded to 
locate elsewhere, and much as he was 
respected, Mrs. Coker was pleased at 
this determination. 

Four miles from ' ' Crane-Neck " was 
a crossing of roads called ' ' New Row- 
ley Corner ;" near hj resided Maj. Paul 
Nelson, a smart man, carrying on con- 
siderable business. Though a l)ache- 
lor, he kept house on his estate, upon 
which was a large tannery. Amongst 
the appurtenances of the place was a 
small shoe-maker's shop, which Lewis 
Hatch hired, and commenced the shoe 
business on a small scale. In a short 
time he was joined by my uncle Joe. 
Little, both young men boarding in the 
family of Maj. Nelson. The business 
prospering, my uncle, Ben. Little, 
joined the firm, which hired the whole 
premises with the exception of the tan- 
nery. A housekeeper was procured, 
and Maj. Nelson in turn boarded with 
the 3'oung bachelors, who now had also 
several youths apprenticed to them, 
besides employing workmen outside. 

As a matter of convenience and 
profit uncle Joe. Little conceived the 
idea of setting up a small grocery and 
general furnishing store. One of the 
front rooms of the house was fitted 
with shelves and other accommoda- 
tions, and the goods were purchased. 
This shop-keeping immediately pros- 
pei'ed. The workmen were pleased at 
being enabled to supply their house- 



88 



REMENTSCENCES 



hold needs so easih', and as there had 
l)een no store for miles around, custom 
began to flock to the place, which even 
then wore a busthng air of prosperity. 

It would have seemed but natural, 
as female cooperation was so necessar}^ 
that one at least of this trio of bache- 
lors should seek a wife, and a legend 
is extant, that uncle Joe did for a time 
entertain some such idea. Before 
going to New Rowley, he had formed 
the acquaintance of a young lady, the 
teacher of the summer school in our 
district. The new firm manutactured 
for merchants in Salem and Boston, 
and as his grocery business increased, 
uncle Joe. made weekly trips to those 
cities, driving his team, which consist- 
ed of a two wheeled spring cart drawn 
by one horse, (four wheeled wagons 
did not come into use until a few years 
later) . 

The father of the young lady teacher 
kept a tavern on the route ; thus my 
uncle had ample opportunity to renew 
his acquaintance with the daughter. 

The young man from childhood had 
been addicted to absent fits of intro- 
spection, at these times he also had a 
habit of picking his nails. I have seen 
him stand ten minutes, wholly oblivi- 
ous to the outside world, nervously 
twitching his fingers. 

It was reported that one cold after- 
noon on his way home from Boston, 
Mr. Little called on the inn keeper's 
daughter. Unexpectedly opening the 
door to the private sitting room he 
briskly entered, but neither the lady 
nor the room bore the aspect of neat- 
ness to have been expected at that 
hour of the day and from one who had 
always seemed to pride herself upon 
her elegance. The story ran that 
though the young man had entered 



most cheerilj', he suddenly grew silent 
and glum ; refusing the chair oflfered, 
he took his stand back to the fire and 
fell into a brown stud}', his eyes fixed 
on A'acanc}', while his nails were 
picked most assiduously. A heat at 
his ankles roused him, and he found 
that in his abstraction he had burned 
the heels of his boots. 

I never heard that the visit was 
renewed ; ever}- matrimonial inclina- 
tion disappeared ; Mr. Little became 
wholly immersed in his business, and 
Miss. Mary Hatch, a sister of Lewis 
Hatch, took her place as mistress of 
the bachelor establishment. 

The New Rowley manufacturers 
were often hurried on orders. In the 
winter season, when the straw work 
was suspended, I often bound both 
boots and shoes for them ; in an emer- 
gency I was their resource. 

One afternoon at the period of which 
I am writing, in the early part of the 
week, uncle Joe. appeared bearing a 
hundred pairs of seal-skin boots, which 
he said must be corded and strapped 
l)y Saturday. At first I declared they 
could not be done in such a limited 
time, but after some demur, yielding 
to liis ardent solicitation, I promised 
to do my best, and without the least 
delay set to work. It was a dirty dis- 
agreeable job ; only love for my uncle, 
and a desire to promote his interest 
could have induced its undertaking. 
As it was, I stitched and stitched 
assiduously day after day, and the 
task was accomplished in the given 
time. The last stitch was just taken 
as uncle Joe. entered the door. He 
was accompanied by David Emery. 
Smut from head to foot I presented no 
very attractive aspect. The young 
man snatched the completed boot from 



my hand, and tossing it at uncle Joe, 
A^ehementl}' protested against his thus 
imposing on ni}^ good nature. The 
matter ended in a laugh, but thence- 
forward only the lighter sort of work 
was brought to me, and that only upon 
some sudden exigence. 

In a few 3'ears the business had 
increased to such an extent that to 
better its accommodation a large store 
was erected exact!}' on ' ' New Rowley- 
Corner," whicli thereafter bore the 
designation of " Little's Corner." A 
house was also built for the con- 
venience of the bachelor family. In 
a short time uncle Ben. Little put 
up a large dwelling house in the vicin- 
it}', and some indications of a match 
between himself and Miss Hatch were 
thought to be tangible. At this junc- 
ture Mr. Lewis Hatch was suddenly 
prostrated with typhoid fever. After 
a short illness lie died ere he had 
reached his thirtieth birth-day. His 
was a short but active life, and his 
death caused a sad void amidst his 
limited but choice circle of friends, by 
whom his memory has been cherished 
with affectionate respect. 

Miss Hatch, a delicate person, was 
overwhelmed b\- the death of her 
brother, and being a victim to disease, 
and though living to an advanced age, 
she ever after remained an invalid. 

Business at " Little's Corner " rapid- 
l}"- increased, other buildings were 
erected, a village sprung up, and the 
nucleus for the now flourishing town 
of Georgetown -was formed. Uncle 
Ben. and uncle Joe. have passed away, 
but their mantle has worthil}- descended 
to their nephews, Samuel Little and 
John Coker. 



OF A I^OITAGEXARIAlSr. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 



89 



Amidst my first reccollections of the 
" Port," loom up drear and dread the 
jail, the whipping post was opposite, 
and the stocks on Water street just 
below Market square, and the work- 
house on Federal street. Newbury 
had no poor-house, its paupers were 
let out in families. In this way most 
reliable servants for lighter work were 
often obtained. An old revolutionary 
soldier by the name of INIitchell re- 
sided in the family of Mr. Moses 
Colman for years. This veteran was 
held in high estimation by the three 
boys, to whom he became an unques- 
tionable authority in field sports, the 
training of horses and dogs, and other 
masculine accomplishments, besides 
being a perfect encyclopijedia of know- 
ledge in various departments of natural 
history, with a never failing stock of 
humorous anecdotes and tales, mingled 
with the sterner recital of privation, 
cold and hunger, battle and siege, with 
all the details, the hght and the shade, 
the poftip, pageantry, glor^- and gore 
of the time that tried men's souls. 
Later, a woman, always termed " Old 
Mary," came into the household 
whom both children and grandchildren 
regarded as a sort of foster mother, 
and whose memory is still affection- 
ately cherished. 

In my more youthful days the roads 
were infested by tramps. Uglj- look- 
ing men and women, begging their way 
from one place to another. The meet- 
ing of such people on m}' way to and 
from school was one of the terrors of 
my childhood. There was an old unoc- 
cupied house on the road, and I never 
passed it alone without accelerated 
pace and a quaking heart. Then, 
12 



90 



EEMrNTISOEI^CES 



though the days of Salem witchcraft 
were ended and old women were no 
longer hung as witches, in every com- 
munity there was one or more believed 
to possess the " evil eye," and in ever}^ 
house could be seen horse shoes above 
the doors, and other charms against 
their machinations. I vividly recall the 
mixture of awe and terror, with which 
I was wont to regard the large, quaint, 
red house on the lower corner of Market 
and High streets, famous in the annals 
of witchcraft. Here resided Goodwife 
Elizabeth Morse, who in 1680, "she 
not having the fear of God before her 
eyes, being instigated by the Divil, and 
had familiarity with the Divil, contrary 
to the peace of our sovereign lord the 
king, his crown and dignity, the laws 
of God, and of this jurisdiction," was 
tried in Boston and sentenced to be 
hanged. Through the firmiless of G ov. 
Bradstreet this sentence was commuted, 
and though Mrs. Morse lived an exem- 
l)lary, christian life in her own house 
for many years, the stigma attached to 
her character had been transmitted 
through the succeeding generations. 
Tales of the "Goody," and the won- 
derful performances that had taken 
place at the "Morse House" were fa- 
miliar legends, which, detailed of a win- 
ter's night, by a low burning candle, 
and smouldering fire, the blast shriek- 
ing round the large house and howling 
down the wide chimney, while the shad- 
ows deepened in the spacious room, 
and the tall clock in the corner ticked 
a solemn accompaniment to the low, 
tragic tones of the speaker, had often 
wrought an effect upon my imagination 
which time has failed to etface. 

It would have 1)ccn difficult to have 
ascertained how or why the females 
thus marked, had received the unenvia- 



ble notorietj- of witches. Generally 
they were persons of the lower class, 
some might have lost caste by youthful 
indiscretion, or b}' a somewhat dubious 
means of obtaining a present livelihood, 
but usually they were hard-working, 
inoffensive women, possessing a 
marked individuality, strong intellect- 
ual faculties, quick perception and keen 
wit, united to a firm will and independ- 
ence of action, characteristics which, 
in some wa}', had brought upon them 
the ban of the community. The witch 
of the " Falls Parish," was an old 
woman called "Tuggie No3'es ;" her real 
christian name was Margaret. I nev- 
er heard how she obtained the nickname 
of Tuggie. I have only a faint remem- 
brance of her, a dim recollection of 
steaUng behind my mother to peep at 
the witch, as slie bargained for some 
tobacco which my father had raised. 1 
think this woman gained a livelihood 
by spinning and weaving, and she was 
frequently employed by Mrs. IMoses 
Colman. I have often heard David 
Emer}' relate an incident of his boy- 
hood by which his disbehef in witches 
was fully confirmed. 

One cold winter morning, David and 
his chum Nate Perley were on their way 
to the old school-house at the corners, 
when they descried Tuggie advancing 
over the half-trodden path, the hood of 
her gray lambskin cloak drawn around 
her face, and a bunch of woolen yarn 
in her hand. 

" There's the witch," Nate exclaimed, 
lamenting the lack cvf a sixpence to 
place in the path to 'stop her farther 
progress. 

His companion expressed his credul- 
ity respecting such an effect, but never- 
theless drew a sixpence from his pock- 
et, which he adroitly dropped immedi- 



OF A ISrOiSrAGENAIlIAlvr. 



91 



ately before the old woman ; she passed 
on directly over it with a curtsy and 
good day, and David again poelveted 
his coin, firm in the faith of Tuggie's 
innocence of any diabolical Influence, 
with a full determination, never to be- 
lieve in any witch, save the witch of 
Endor. 

When I was six or seven years old, 
a young man in the neighborhood be- 
came insane. For a time he was a 
complete maniac, necessitating confine- 
ment, and a watclifiil attendance. Dis- 
ease of the brain was not general!}' un- 
derstood ; if one became a victim of ab- 
erration of intellect, it was universally 
declared that they were bewitched, and 
the various charms, most supremel}' 
ridiculous, then in vogue, were imme- 
diatel}' exercised to dispel the foul 
fiend. Young Edward Hills, having 
as it was declared fallen under the in- 
fluence of the "•evil e3'e," great were 
the etforts to discover the author of the 
spell by which he was bound. Susi:»ic- 
ion pointed to two or three old women 
in that and the next parish, over 
whom a seci-et but strict surveilliance 
was instituted, while every test known 
in the annals of witch lore was put in 
requisition for the relief of the sup- 
posed bewitched youth. 

The person held in the greatest dis- 
trust was a worthy hard working 
woman, residing a short distance from 
Mr. Hill's. Why or how she should 
have attained to the dubious honor of 
being considered an equestrienne of 
the broomstick I never could conceive, 
unless it was from a shrewd, far- 
sighted intellect, and a fearless and 
forcible expression of her convictions, 
a keen wit, and a somewhat sharp 
tongue, that usuall}', to vise a familiar 
phrase, " hit the nail on the head." 



Aunt Euth Little believed in witches 
as religiously as she did in her bible — 
the least doubt was considered rank 
heres}'. The supposed witch was em- 
ployed by the families in the vicinity 
Iioth in spinning and weaving, and 
upon learning Edward Hill's situation 
Mrs. Little commenced a strict scrutiny 
over her neighbor. One evening that 
spring a ^oung heifer unused to the 
process of milking became a little frac- 
tious and Icicked over the milk pail. 
Aunt Euth instantly declared her be- 
witched, and rushing to the barn armed 
with her sharp shears, she dipt a few 
hairs from the animal's tail, which were 
fluug upon the fire. A fortnight after 
the supposed witch came in with her 
hand bandaged, she had burned it a 
few nights previous with the warming- 
pan. The expression of horror that 
stole over aunt Euth's face at this 
ainiouncement would have established 
the reputation of a tragic actress. 
" Sartinly she had had her suspicions, 
but r'al}^ they had never amounted to 
conviction till then ; to think that by 
burning the hair from the heifer's tail 
the huss}' should get her hand scorched 
by the warming-pan ! " 

In vain both her husband, the hired 
man and David Emeiy, all declared 
that the incident respecting the heifer 
took place more than a week prior to 
the accident by the warming-pan, aunt 
Euth was not to be silenced. " She 
knew black from white, and when her 
convictions were settled the}' were set- 
tled." 

After a time Mr. Hill became per- 
fectly sane. By trade a joiner, he 
married and settled on the famil}- 
homestead ; years after, a few years 
prior to m}' marriage, he Avas again at- 
tacked by insanity. For a time he 



92 



REMLNISOENOES 



was extremely violent, so much so 
that he was chained to the floor of the 
parlor, which had been denuded of 
the furniture and the windows boarded 
to the upper panes. Though this s^'s- 
tem was rather calculated to enhance 
than repel the malady, after a time 
the disease assumed a milder t^'pe, 
and the maniac again took his place in 
the household, but to the end of a long- 
life, his brain continued clouded. For 
mouths he would remain indoors, quiet 
and silent, then suddenly become the 
impersonation of activit}', brimming 
over with a crazed wit, that was as 
humorous as it usually was harmless. 
At this second period of insanity, 
the world had sufficientl}' advanced in 
knowledge to place the affliction in the 
appropriate categorj' ; only a few, like 
aunt Ruth, still adhered to the witch 
doctrine, but the old ideas were held 
with such tenacity that Parson Woods 
was called to exorcise the foul fiend, 
aud one watcher was nearl}' frightened 
out of his wits at the family cat, sup- 
posing her to be some witch's familiar. 
As the spring advanced, the young- 
men in the vicinity- volunteered to do 
the ploughing and planting for Mv. 
Hill. I often went to the Bylield factory 
on business, and Mrs. Hill told my 
brother James that she was desirous 
that I should execute a commission for 
her the next time I rode thither. Ac- 
cordingly, one pleasant evening, I went 
in to receive her orders. Mrs. Hill 
was milking, the children were with her. 
Mr. Hill sat before a light fire which 
was smouldering- in the kitchen fire- 
place. Seeing that he was alone, I 
hesitated on the threshold ; looking up, 
the lunatic with a pleased expressioji 
bade me enter and be seated. "His 
old woman would be in directly." 



Squinting up one eye, with a wise 
shake of the head, he added, " I know 
what she wants of you, Sallie. She 
thinks, wonderful woman, that it is a 
profound secret, l)ut she has sent for 
3'ou to buy the cloth at the factory for 
me a pair of breeches, and she has the 
mone}' laid b}' to pay for it. Draw up 
your chair, Sallie, 3'ou are not afraid of 
me. I sha'n't scare 3'ou as I did that 
New Hampshire chap that boarded at 
Deacon Tenney's last winter. I saw 
he was scared the moment he came in, 
and I determined to have a bit of fun. 
Didn't I kick up a ringtum? The big 
lout was e'en jest frightened out of his 
senses ; he daresn't sta}^ in the room, 
but every two minutes he would open 
the door a crack, and squeak out, 'won't 
you have a leetle catfee,Mr. Hill — won't 
you have a leetle caffee ? ' I got so out 
of patience, I told him to hold his in- 
fernal tongue or 1 would ' caflTee ' him 
with a vengeance ! I silenced him, but 
the darned fool took our old Suke for 
a witch, declared a strange cat flew in- 
to m}' room through the key hole, when 
it was only our old cat who pushed in 
beside him,' while he was holding the 
door and bawling 'caftee.' Thej' sa}^ 
I was bewitched, Sallie. It was sport 
to make folks think so. Wasn't it fun 
to make folks' e3'es stick out? Aunt 
Ruth thought she knew. Oh ^-es, she 
is the elect lady ! She knows ; so they 
sent for Parson Woods. I told him 
he had such an acquaintance with his 
Satanic Majest}', his ser\-ices would 
have been especially efficacious if need- 
ed, l>ut I scarcel}- thought he would 
find an}- divil to exorcise. If he could 
he was at liberty to pitch him into my 
pig-st}-." Giving me another of his 
peculiarh' knowing squints, he contin- 
ued, "Between you and I, I think the 



OF A NO^AGEN"ARIAN. 



93 



Lord was rather hard upon that Gada- 
rene. He must have taken him out of 
a good round sum. I have been calcu- 
lating," 'he added, pointing to some 
chalk marks by the fire-place, " but as 
the account only states the number, 
and not the value per head, I am una- 
ble to ascertain the loss. The fact was, 
Sallie, the Parson came too late, ^and 
so I informed him. I told him the 
witches were dead. I saw them one 
moonlight night piping and dancing up 
" Ci'ane-neck road." Old women on 
broomsticks, and 30ung gals kicking 
up their heels, old Nick ahead leading 
the wa^'. Fust they stopped at yer 
uncle Enoch Little's, but he swore so 
fast, the Divil gin in, and the gang 
trooped into uncle John's. Mr. Little 
was sitting afore the fire toasting fust 
the palms then the backs of his hands. 
He looked 'round, held out one hand, 
then the other, and said, ' yes, yes- 
yes, yes,' so old Nick struck up again, 
and on they squirled to your house. 
Mr. Sam. Smith was down from Ver- 
mont, singing Method}- hj-mns so loud 
they turned over to uncle Thurrel's. 

The old man driving up old ' White' 
in the cider mill, too much hurried to 
salute his fust cousin, he hollered, 
' Terap, Terap,' so lustily, the whole 
batch scampered off hilter skilter down 
'South End,' across 'Crane meadow,' 
and before the}' could fetch up, they 
rushed headlong into ' Crane pond,' 
and that was the end of the witches." 

With this announcement Mr. Hill 
gravely surveyed the opposite wall in 
silence, and I indulged in the merri- 
ment his apt description of the pecul- 
iar traits ol the individuals visited l)y 
the witches had exacted. Suddenly 
m}' companion started from his reverie, 
aud exclaiming that his boot hurt him, 



drew it from his right foot ; having al- 
so removed his stockings, part of an- 
other stocking foot was disclosed ; tak- 
ing this ofl", he held up his foot, the 
toes covered by the thumb and fingers of 
buckskin glove, and asked, "if I 
should think that would feel com- 
fortable ? " 

Answering in the negative, I in- 
quired why he had thus bundled up his 
toes ? Vouchsafing no reply, he slow- 
ly and sedately drew off first the thumb 
and next the fingers, flinging theni 
into the fire with a muttered invocation 
as each fell upon the coals, and as the 
last curled upon the embers, he quickly 
turned, and with a most quizzical look 
said; "David would get credit in a 
steeple chase, 'tisn't every one that 
could leap the wall as he did last win- 
ter, l)ut he broke his shaft." 

I made no answer, and pretended 
not to understand. 

"You needn't make believe 3'ou 
don't compreliend what I mean. You 
know last winter when Tea street was 
blocked up and the path led through 
my field, David Emery mistook and 
took a flying leap over the wall above 
the house instead of going below 
through the bars. He thought no one 
knew it. If the windows were boarded 
up I heard him. He broke his shaft I 
know. I wanted to go out to help 
him, but they said no one was there, 
I was bewitched. There was a line in 
the sleigh box to tie up the shaft. 
David tied it together ; then I heard 
the bells as he drove up the hill. 
David says old Mitchell has taught him 
to always go armed and equipped. 
That is a grand horse, and David is a 
good horseman ; not one in a thousand 
could have cleared that wall as he did. 
Oh, David's a trump ! But yon do not 



94 



EEMINISCEI^CES 



know of whom I am speaking ! You 
know nothing of the gentleman nor his 
proceedings !" and with a prolonged 
laugh and most emphatic grimaces the 
lunatic pulled on his stocking and boot. 
Mrs. Hill came in as she gave me her 
commission. I repeated what her hus- 
band had told me. She expressed 
great surprise, and said he must have 
guessed her intentions, as she had never 
mentioned them. His intuition and 
cunning were remarkal)le *; she some- 
times thought that she must join with 
aunt Ruth and pronounce him be- 
witched. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

That spring David Emer}- made his 
first and last sea voyage. Tliough 
this short trip comprised the whole of 
his sea faring life, it Itrought tliat 
which many a veteran sailor who has 
circumnavigated the globe has failed 
to experience — the horrors of a ship- 
wreck. 

Business suddenly summoned the 
yonng man to Eastport, District of 
Maine. He expected to be absent a 
month. In about three weeks I 
received a letter. It had been long on 
the road, as in those nnsettled regions 
the mail was chiefly transported in sad- 
dle bags by a carrier on horsebaclv. 
David wrote that we might expect him 
by the middle of June. Friday, the 
sixteenth of Jnne, dawned overcast 
and sultry ; scarcely a leaf stirred 
through the day, and the night came 
on murky and oppressive. About mid- 
night I was awakened by the wind, a 
gust struck with great force against the 
long, sloping, back roof. There was a 



furious squall for a few moments ; 
while the rain came in a torrent, the 
wind slightly abated, but a severe 
north-east storm set in, which con- 
tinued until noon Saturday. 

As we knew David must be near the 
coast, great anxiety Avas felt respect- 
ing him. Sunda}' passed without 
tidings, but Monday morning m}' 
brother Joseph learned at the grist 
mill in Byfield, that he had been cast 
away on Plum Island, and that his 
brothel', Jeremiah C'ohnnn, brought liim 
to his fatlier's on Sunday. Mr. Perley, 
from whom the news was obtained, 
reported that no injur}' had been 
received to hfe or limb, "but he did 
wish we could have seen the figure 
David cut ; his clothes, especially his 
hat, all filled with lint from the sails, 
was a sight to behold." 

In the afternoon the young man 
drove over, looking none the worse for 
his disaster. After father had drawn 
a mug of his best cider, the traveller 
gave us a description of liis adventures. 
Though the schooner in which he was 
forced to take passage was old and 
dirty, the trip to Eastport was both 
quiclc and pleasant ; his speculation 
succeeded, and he was most hospitabh' 
entertained by most agreeable people. 
Business called him to a nev settle- 
ment up the St. Croix river. The onl}^ 
means of transportation was bj' a birch 
bark canoe, paddleil by an Indian. 
The red-skin belonged to a tribe living 
above Eastport ; he hai come to the 
town to procure the wherewithal to cel- 
el)rate the nuptials of a daughter ; an 
addition to his purse was acceptable, 
and he readily agreed to take the 
young man up the river that da}' and 
down the next. 

His directions as he seated his 



OF A NONAGENAPkIAI^. 



95 



passenger in the bottom of the canoe 
were most strict and emphatic. "■ Sit 
straight, keep arms so, keep qniet, 
canoe go over just hke clat," he said, 
snapping his lingers. "Me drOwn one 
white man, me never get no more wliite 
man to paddle." 

Knowing the nature of the frail bark 
Mr. Emery comforted himself witli 
such discretion as to win the en- 
comiums of his companion, eliciting 
grunts of ap})robation. 

The day wore on. Hour after hour 
they glided up the broad, beautiful 
stream, bordered by the primeval 
forest. The grave, taciturn Indian 
bending t(j his task, the silence of the 
still June daj' unbroken, save by the 
dip of the paddle, the note of a bird, 
or the far awa_y cry of some wild 
animal in the' distance. 

Hungiy and thirsty, weary from the 
cramped position, near sunset the 
young man joyfully descried a clearing 
upon the bank, a little wliarf project- 
ing into the river, and a clump of 
buildings in th^^ back ground. 

Upon lauding Mr. Emery learned 
that the gentleman he had come hither 
to seek was in Boston. A representa- 
tive from the " District of Maine," he 
had gone thither to attend the General 
Court, which at that time commenced 
its sittings at " Election," which was 
on the last Wednesday in JNIay. Though 
the mistress of the mansion expressed 
regret that her husband could not 
have the pleasure of entertaining the 
guest, he received the assurance that 
she possessed full power to facilitate tlie 
errand which had brought him there. 
Upon Mr. Emery's expressing his fears 
that his boatman might be an annoy- 
ance, she bade him " have no concern, 
as she often entertained the Indians of 



the vicinity; had a back room and 
blankets for their especial accommoda- 
tion." 

The row back to Eastport was made 
in safety. The Indian had taken a 
fancy to his passenger, and invited him 
to his daughter's wedding ; press of 
business prevented the acceptance of 
this invitation, though it would have 
given the young man pleasure to have 
been present at such a novel enter- 
tainment. The Indian having made 
Ills i)urchases, a barrel of flour, one 
cwt. of i)ork, a keg of molasses, and 
two gallons of rum, took leave ; hav- 
ing been presented with a few trinkets 
for the bride, the gratified redskin un- 
der the influence of gratitude and us- 
quebaugh, affectionately hugged his 
"white brother," and with grunts of 
satisfaction seated himself amidst his 
possessions and slowly paddled home- 
ward. 

Upon introduction to a young French 
priest, the cure of a Catholic mission 
up tlie river, Mr. Emery received an 
invitation to visit the station, M'hich he 
did the next Sunda}^ in company with 
a party of ladies and gentlemen. The 
church and mission house which stood 
in the midst of the Indian village, were 
heavy structures of rough stone, the 
surrounding huts were of slabs and 
boards, with garden patches showino- 
rude attempt at cultivation. The 
church was well filled, many of the 
worshippers having come a long dis- 
tance through the forest. Several of 
the women had pappooses strapped on 
their shoulders in blankets. The men 
were tall and athletic, the elder women 
somewhat homely, but the younger 
ones rather good looking, some of the 
girls were decidedly pretty. Most of 
the women were gaj^ with gew-gaws 



96 



EEMINISCEN'CES 



and feathers, their shapely feet showing 
to great advantage in their elaboratel}' 
ornamented deerskin moccasins. His 
companion of the canoe was the first 
to greet Mr. Emery. His delight at 
again seeing his ' ' white brother " was 
warmly expressed, and he hastened to 
fetch the bride and bridegroom and the 
other members of his family. The 
3'oung cure was evidently' beloved and 
respected, his flock were quiet and de- 
vout through the service. The party 
were hospitably entertained by the 
priest, who in the afternoon, in defer- 
ence to his guests, preached a fine ser- 
mon in English — that in the morning 
had been delivered in French. This 
was Mr. Emery's introduction to that 
church which he had been taught to 
shun and abhor, but it gave a pleasing 
impression which exer after remained. 
The second week in June the Lucy 
Ann set sail for Newburyport. The 
crew consisted of the skipper and 
three men ; there were two passengers 
beside Mr. Emer^^ a Mr. Little, an 
Irishman b}- birth, and at that time do- 
ing business in Boston, and a young 
man, belonging in Newburyport, by the 
name of Richardson. Off Boon Island 
the schooner was becalmed for several 
days and the passengers took the op- 
portunity' to visit a farm-house there. 
The sixteenth the night closed in dark 
and foggy. Mr. Emery was awakened 
by the squall. Amid a terrible pitch- 
ing, snapping, creaking and flapping, 
the passengers made their way on deck. 
The rain poured like a flood, it was 
diflEicult to sustain a foothold, every- 
thing was flying in every direction. 
The deck load of wood and bark was 
pitching hither and thither, pieces of 
bark being hurled mast high. The 
squall subsided, but the storm came on 



fierce and terrific. The skipper thought 
he was in the vicinity of Portsmouth, 
and every effort was made to clear the 
coast. Heavier grew the sea, stronger 
the blast. Sea after sea swept the 
deck, the roaring billows dashing to 
the mast head, raged around the frail 
craft, phosphorescent crested, one sheet 
of flame. At length, to ever3'one's re- 
lief, the da}' dawned, but still the mist 
and spray shut in the sight. Suddenly 
came the cry, " a sail ahead ; " the fog 
at that moment slightly cleared, and in 
afl righted tones, the captain ejaculated, 
' ' My God ! It is Newburyport lights." 

He was an Eastern man, unacquaint- 
ed with the coast ; turning to his pas- 
senger, he demanded, " Emer^^, what 
am I to do ? " 

The young man remembering Hamp- 
ton rocks, replied, "Keep her oft", run 
t(j the leeward, clear the bar if possi- 
ble." 

The captain ' *■ inquired if he could 
make Cape Ann harbor." Mr. Emery 
thought not, and shortly' a tremendous 
sea which carried away the main boom 
settled the question. The weather had 
begun to clear, Mr. Emery could dis- 
cern that they were nearly abreast of 
the Plum Island hotel, and he advised 
beaching the craft immediately. The 
helm was turned, she swung slowh' 
'round and headed for the shore. Those 
acquainted with the coast in a teriffic 
northeaster will appreciate the situa- 
tion. On she went, thrown forward by 
the waves. A tremendous bump, then 
she swung back, but the next sea took 
her and with a second bump and bang, 
which carried the foremast and main- 
mast by the board, the Luc}' Ann set- 
tled into the sand, her aqueous career 
forever ended. 

The storm abated, towards noon the 



OF A]Sr/^6l!f AGE^-ARIAX. 



97 



rain ceased, and preparations were 
made to get a line on shore. Mr. 
Clifford, the landlord of the hotel, had 
espied the schooner, and with his boy 
was on the beach ready to render 
assistance, but who was the one to 
breast that thunderous surf? The lot 
fell upon a stalwart sailor who had 
been caught stealing from the passen- 
gers. »S tripped to his shirt and 
drawers, a rope secured around his 
waist, the stout fellow plunged into the 
swirl of waters, and, after a strenuous 
struggle, almost exhausted, he at 
length reached the land. The others 
prepared to follow. There was valu- 
able propert}' in the cabin ; Mr. Little 
had several thousand dollars on board, 
the other passengers a considerable 
sum, all in specie. It was thought 
that the hull would hold together. Mr. 
Emery went below to cord his trunk 
more securely, there he found young 
Richardson tying up a hundred silver 
dollars in a bandanna pocket-handker- 
chief. Mr. Emery vainly tried to per- 
suade the foolish fellow to return , the 
money to his box, but he persisted in 
taking it on deck, where the first wave 
burst the frail envelope and a hundred 
silver dollars were added to the treas- 
ures of the deep. 

Mr. Little, not a swimmer, was fear- 
ful that he could not reach the shore by 
the line, but being duly encouraged a 
successful attempt was made, and the 
whole five reached terra firma without 
accident. 

Refreshed and dried, as the weather 
had cleared and the tide turned, with 
the aid of Mr. Clifford's horse and cart 
the articles were taken from the 
schooner and brought safely to the 
hotel. Nothing was lost but Richard- 
son's silver. Mr. Clifford took the 



skipper to town. Mr. Little was so 
anxious that Mr. Emery should remain 
with him over night that the young 
man somewhat reluctantly consented. 
The merchant had made arrangements 
to go into business in Eastport, and he 
was solicitous to remove all traces of 
the disaster from his clothes and 
papers, in order that his wife should 
know nothing of it, as, if she did, he 
feared he never would be able to re- 
move her from Boston. 

During David's absence, his brother, 
Jeremiah Colmau, had been married to 
Miss Mary Chute, daughter of Deacon 
James Chute of Byfield. Mr. Colman 
had been estabhshed in the butchering 
business in Newburyport for some 
time, and the young couple had set up 
housekeeping in half of the Pearson 
house on Charter street. Learning 
what had befallen David, Jerr^' drove 
to the Island and insisted on taking 
him to his house, where Mrs. Colman 
received him with sisterly affection, 
and every effort was made for his re- 
freshment and comfort. 

The hullc after lying some time in 
the sand was eventually broken up. 
The vessel had been insured at New- 
burj'port, and at first some had de- 
murred respecting paying the insur- 
ance, but upon farther investigation it 
was promptly handed over. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

I have stated that Mr. Benjamin 
Colman purchased ' ' Slade's meeting- 
house," and having moved it near his 
residence, vhich was in the vicinity of 
the Byfield parsonage, fitted the build- 
13 



98 



KEMrNlSCEN^CES 



ing for a seminaiy. The prospectus 
of the Female Academy, Byfield, pub- 
lished in the " Newburyport Herald," 
enumerates "Grammar, Arithmetic, 
Geography, Rhetoric, Composition, 
Painting and needle-work,*' as the 
branches taught. It adds : " It is ex- 
pected that a gentleman of christian 
education will, generally, every day 
visit the Seminary, and if occasion 
require, lend assistance in teaching 
the higher branches of study, or 
give instruction on those topics which 
may promote the general object of 
female education." Miss Rebecca 
Hardy was the first teacher, Miss Re- 
becca Hazeltine succeeded as princi- 
pal, and her younger sister, Ann, after- 
ward Mrs. Judson, one of the first 
American missionaries to India, acted 
as assistant. A school of from forty 
to fifty pupils was gathered, young 
ladies from the wealthier families in the 
neighborhood and surrounding coun- 
tr}', with others from places more 
remote. The summer of which I am 
writing there were several from New 
Hampshire, and the interior towns of 
Massachusetts. Some of the older 
pupils were affianced to clergymen, 
and had placed themselves under Miss 
Hazeltine's instruction, the better to 
qualify themselves for the dignified and 
responsible position of a minister's 
wife. Amongst these was Miss Lucy 
Brown, afterwards Mrs. Demond of 
the upper parish in West Newbury. 

The Misses Hazeltine and some half 
dozen of the pupils boarded with Dr. 
Parish, a number were accommodated 
in the families of Messrs. Benjamin and 
Moses Colman, the others were located 
in the vicinity. Miss Luc,y Brown 
boarded with Mr. Moses Colman, and 
she became such a favorite that in after 



years her sojourn in the family was 
often referred to with pleasure. 

According to the prospectus, clergy- 
men frequented the school to lecture 
and attend to its interests. To young 
students about entering the ministry 
this seminary was a special attraction. 
The pupils were often in a flutter of 
excitement over this and that young 
minister, and several engagements were 
formed. One morning a very piousl}' 
disposed youth appeared, whom the 
principal introduced as the Rev. Mr. 
, adding, "that having deter- 



mined to consecrate his life to the con- 
version of heathen in foreign lands, he 
had come to enquire if any one of the 
young ladies present could so far deny 
herself and take up her cross as to 
accompany him as his soul's partner in 
his work for Christ and Him crucified. 
If either of the misses felt that she 
could do so, put her whole heart into 
the holy work, she would please rise." 
As the sound died on the teacher's lips, 
up jumped ever}" girl in the room. All 
were ready to be given as lambs to the 
sacrifice. After much suppressed laugh- 
ter, some blushes and confusion, the 
matter was deferred to another time, 
but in a few weeks the missionary' 
bore away a bride. 

From time immemorial it had been 
the custom for parties to visit Plum 
Island, in Septemlier, when the plums 
were ripe. Families joined through- 
out the neighborhood, or the 3'oung 
men and maidens, in as smart turnouts 
as could be secured, gaily hied, in a 
long procession, to spend a da}- or an 
afternoon in innocent amusement. Sev- 
eral i^arties of married people in By- 
field had made this annual excursion, 
and as some of the young ladies at the 
Seminar}- from the interior towns, who 



OF A N^Ol^AGEXARIAIN^. 



99 



had never seen the sea, had expressed 
a desire for the ride, the 3'oung gen- 
tlemen of the parish resolved them- 
selves into a committee to make the 
necessary arrangements for a Plum 
Island party. Pains were taken to 
make it in every respect a first-class 
affair, the most perfect etiquette being- 
observed in the invitations and arrange- 
ments. The intelligence of what was 
afoot, reached the Seminary a day or 
two prior to the issue of the invita- 
tions, making quite a stir amongst the 
pupils. The preceptress made no ol)- 
jection to the proposed recreation, but 
the younger assistant, Miss Ann, or as 
she was then termed Miss Nanc3', set 
up such a violent opposition that 
it reached the ears of the gentle- 
men. Amongst the most prominent of 
the By field beaux, was Joseph Noyes, 
son of Mr. Lemuel Noyes. Of a 
wealthy family and liberally educated, 
with a pleasing person and address, 
this 3'oung man had been selected as 
the most suitable escort for Miss Nancy 
Hazeltine, but upon learning her disap- 
proval of the party, he paid his devoirs 
elsewhere, and several of the girls 
sought Dr. Parish's advice respecting 
the propriety of accepting their invita- 
tions. The Doctor said go. " He was 
proud and pleased that the 3'oung men 
of his society had thus given them the 
opportunity to view the beauty, wonder 
and sublimity of the mighty ocean." 
That summer Mr. Moses Colmau had 
purchased a new chaise. This stylish 
vehicle, the hight of ton, had a square, 
canvas covered top, with a body 
painted in bright vermillion, the rest of 
the wood- work dark brown, the lining 
and cushions were of drab broadcloth, 
and an oilcloth covered the floor. Da- 
vid Emery owned a horse ; Daniel Col- 



man would take his father's, but which 
should have the chaise? Poor Mr. 
Colman puzzled over this problem all 
one morning. At length a happy idea 
suggested itself which was made 
known at the dinner table. Much to 
his son's astonishment the old gentle- 
man, in his loud, cheery tones, abrupt- 
ly exclaimed : ' ' Boys the one that 
carries the best girl to Plum Island 
shall have the new chaise." 

An addition was building to Mr. 
Colman's house : at the table were two 
joiners from West Newbury, Mr. 
Jonathan Chase and Daniel Sillowaj". 
Before the disconcerted 3'oung men 
could reply, Mr. Chase exclaimed : 
"Then David must have the chaise, 
for he will take Sallie Smith, and she 
is the best girl in West Newbur3^" 
" Good, good," the gentlemen replied 
with dehght. David shall have the 
chaise. Daniel, as soon you have 
swallowed 3"our dinner go over to 
Mose Dole's and hire the best chaise 
he has." 

Chaise making had alread3' become 
a thriving business in West Newbury, 
but Mr. Moses Dole of Byfield did 
most of the blacksmith work. The 
ditferent artisans often clubbed together 
to build a lot of chaises, which were 
divided amongst them ; this caused 
INIr. Dole to usually have a number of 
these vehicles for sale or to let. 

The anticipated morning at length 
dawned clear and bright, a lovely Sep- 
teml^er da3'. Mrs. Colman had insist- 
ed that I should come over to Byfield 
and dine. David came for me about 
ten o'clock. The new chaise was re- 
splendent, and " Bob," a chubb3' sor- 
rel horse had been groomed to match, 
and the silver mounted harness was as 
lustrous as whiting could polish. David 



100 



eemintsce:n'ces 



in a handsome new suit looked as ele- 
gant as his equipage. White cambric 
or dimity was the fashionable dress for 
such an occasion. I wore white cam- 
bric, and a straw bonnet trimmed with 
a broad, white, lutestring ribbon. 

David was in high spirits. He had 
just returned from Boston, and enter- 
tained me during the ride with a de- 
scription of his visit. He had dined 
with his friend, Charles Parsons, at 
his father's, Judge Parsons' mansion. 
Charles had greatly diverted his visitor 
by introducing his youngest brother as, 
" this is our Thof, a great sarpint, just 
like pa." 

At dinner the judge had been espec- 
ially entertaining. After minute in- 
quires respecting his boyhood's home, 
he fell to recounting anecdotes of his 
school days. The parsonage boys, as 
is proverbial of minister's sons, had 
been great rogues. 

"'One day .in mid winter their 
teacher was invited to dine at the par- 
sonage. He was a self-sufficient, pom- 
pous coxcomb, much disliked l)y his 
pupils, and the minister's boys deter- 
mined upon a practical joke. The 
snow was frozen hard, and the master, 
to shorten the distance, had come 
across lots from his boarding place. 
After dinner, while the pedagogue was 
sipping hot punch, and smoking a pipe 
with their, father, his hopeful pupils 
proceeded to crack the ice in a small 
stream which their teacher would pass 
on his way home. This accomplished, 
they hid amidst some alders. It was a 
tedious while to wait, for the punch 
and tobacco were good, the minister 
entertaining, and his parlor warm and 
pleasant. At length towards dusk 
their patience was rewarded. The 
lord of the Ijirch was descried ap- 



proaching, swinging his cane, full of 
self-importance and good cheer. Proud 
of having dined at the parsonage, he 
strutted forward with an increased as- 
sumption of arrogance, dressed in his 
gold-laced cocked hat, velvet coat and 
breeches, silk stockings, and gaiters. 
On he came, his head high in air, his 
cane twirling from his fingers, on — on 

— crack — crackle — splash — splurge 

— kersouse went the discomfitted Dom- 
inee knee deep in the brook, much to 
his chagrin and ire, and to the huge 
dehght of the watchers amid the alders. 

There were several sons, and one of 
the younger boys having inherited all 
the worn, dog-eared school books of 
his elder brothers, determined that 
they should descend no farther ; so as 
fast as a leaf was committed to mem- 
ory he tore it out and crammed it into 
a hole in the wall beside his desk, thus 
at the end of the study the book was 
minus, excepting covers. Lem. Noyes, 
a somewhat loutish, dull boy, often 
became a butt for their jokes. They 
had excited his wrath, and he had 
threatened to thrash them. He was 
larger and stronger than the minis- 
ter's sons; they knew they stood no 
chance in an encounter of fisticuffs, so 
they concocted a plan to get the better 
of their school-mate. In the vicinity 
of the school house was a tan yard, 
and having laid some loose boards over 
one of the vats, they challenged Lem. 
to a race. The unsuspecting youth 
eagerly joining in the sport, of course 
was permitted to get ahead ; proud of 
his agihty, the poor fellow rushed for- 
ward with a tremendous eflbrt, to sud- 
denly find himself lying among the 
hides. Amongst the scholars was a 
negro boy. Most of the famihes in 
Byfield in the olden time held one or 



OF A N0:N"AGE]!^AP.IAN'. 



101 



more slaves, and there was usually 
quite a sprinkling of the sable hue 
amongst the pupils of the district 
school. The boys under pretence of 
dressing the darky's head saturated his 
wool with oil, then they put him up to 
some prank for which he was sure to 
receive punishment. The teacher was 
the one who had received the cold bath, 
a great dandy, alwaj's foppishly attired. 
Coming up the aisle and noticing the 
delinquent he gave the little nig a 
sound cuff in the side of the head which 
spattered the oil all over his fine 
clothes. The master in impotent rage 
glanced over the school house. The 
parson's boys were the impersonation 
of serious studiousness, and the other 
scholars, though wholly innocent of the 
trick, but many of whom having wit- 
nessed the transaction were on the 
broad grin, received the castigation 
which was so richly deserved else- 
where. 

I was greatly amused at these 
stories, and the ride seemed unusuall}' 
short. Some ten years previous New- 
bury had received an heir, a two 3-ears 
old bo}^ of African lineage. What was 
to be done with this waif? The over- 
seers of the poor met to decide. It 
was customarj' to put such children, to 
remain until twenty-one, into a famil}', 
which received a small compensation 
from the town until the child was seven 
years old ; after that his services were 
consideied a sufficient remuneration. 
Somebody must take httle Charles 
Fields, but where could this somebody 
be found? Mr. Colman's sons always 
averred, " that father was never satis- 
fied unless he had a parrot, a monkey 
and a nigger." The black bab}' with 
his round wooUj^ head, shining eyes 
and glistening teeth, fau-ly won the 



benevolent gentleman's heart, and as 
no one else offered, he armfiiUed up 
httle Charley-, and an hour later, much 
to Mrs. Colman's astonishment, he 
placed the boy in her lap, Avith the in- 
junction "to take care of the little ras- 
cal." The command was faithfully exe- 
cuted. Charles received every privi- 
lege that had been accorded to the sons 
of the family, with the exception of the 
academic course at Dummer Academy. 
I am sorry to sa}' that a poor return 
was received for this trouble and care. 
The little black rascal grew up a big- 
rascal, causing nuich vexation until his 
decease, which occurred in middle life. 
At this time he was a stout lad of 
thirteen. Cap in hand, with a pro- 
found obeisance and a great display 6f 
ivory, he swung aside the gate at the 
head of the avenue as we drove up. 

Mrs. Colman gave me a cordial, and 
Mr. Colman a rapturous greeting. 
' ' Had he not always promised that I 
should be David's little wife ? " I was 
introduced to Mr. and Mrs. John 
Colman. John, the oldest son of 
Deacon Colman, had married a lad}- by 
the name of Danforth. This couple 
signalized themselves by their migra- 
tory life, during which the^^ made 
thirty-two removals. Some half doz- 
en of these were between Byfield 
and Maine. Mrs. Colman used to 
boast that she had crossed the ocean 
between Newbur3'port and the District 
of Maine fourteen times, and she 
would add, "the happiest time in my 
life was when I was midwa}^ in these 
removals ; at that point I was rejoicing 
at having left the .old place and look- 
ing forward with hope to the new." 

As was natural, these rolling stones 
gathered little moss, but alwa3-s san- 
guine and cheerful, they passed as 



102 



KEMINTSCEN'CES 



happy and contented a life as either of 
the famil}'. At this time they were 
paying a farewell visit to their brother 
prior to one of their flittings eastward. 

Dnring the Revolutionar}' war Dea- 
con Cohnan had filled an army order 
for boots and shoes. These with other 
clothing Moses had taken in mid-win- 
ter to New Jerse}' in a covered cart 
drawn by a span of horses. 

During dinner Mr. Colman gave a 
graphic description of the ragged and 
desolate appearance of our troops, on 
his arrival at Morristown, just at the 
close of that winter so memorable for 
sutfering, and the joy with which his 
arrival was hailed. 

" Yes," exlaimed old Mitchell, " and 
the shoes were a good honest make, 
but the stockings, most of them, were a 
darned cheat, and the woman that could 
thus deceive a poor soldier must have a 
mighty small soul." The hose had been 
knit loose, then stretched on a board 
fashioned like a last ; when washed they 
shrunk so as to be scarcely' wearable. 
This was in the good old times ; human 
nature is much alike in all generations. 

The rendezvous for the party had 
been appointed at Deacon Ben. Col- 
man's. From a dozen to fifteen chaises 
formed in procession, and gaily trot- 
ted to the island. Our visit was ex- 
pected. Mr. Clifford and his waiters 
were profuse in their attention. We 
were ushered into the parlor, wine hav- 
ing been served, we proceeded amid 
much fun and frolic, to make our way 
to the beach over the Iqpse sand. 
Joseph Noyes escorted a Miss Parkis, 
the daughter of Dr. Parkis, a distin- 
guished ph3-sician of Hanover ; and 
Daniel Colman, Miss Bets}' Smith, a 
great witch, and the only daughter of 
a wealthy family in Dover. Miss Par- 



kis and Mr. Noj-es were ver}- merry 
at Miss Nanc3" Hazeltine's expense. 
As Mr. Noj-es drove up to take Miss 
Parkis, Miss Hazeltine, glancing from 
the window, exclaimed, "there's Joe. 
No3-es, he has come to take me to Plum 
Island, but he will find I do not coun- 
tenance such frivolity." To her cha- 
grin Miss Parkis tripped down the 
stairs, Mr. Noyes assisted her into the 
chaise, and with a polite salutation to 
Miss Nancy at the window, drove 
away. 

After a merry afternoon, we returned 
to the hotel, where an elegant supper 
awaited us, spread in the ,upper hall. 
At its close, as it was near sunset, the 
chaises were ordered. At Newbury- 
port Mr. Emery and myself bade the 
others good evening, and took the di- 
rect route for West Newbur}'. 

The 3'oung ladies at the Seminars- 
were so delighted with their excursion, 
that girl-like they gave enthusiastic 
descriptions of the ride. This brought 
such severe animadversions from the 
assistant teacher, that her pupils, some 
of them as old, or older than herself, 
lost patience. The matter spread 
amongst the gentlemen, and the big 
scamps, in the total depravity of their 
unregenerate hearts, planned a practi- 
cal joke at the expense of the lady 
whom they regarded as righteous over- 
much. I never knew who originated 
the plot, but strongl}- suspect that it 
might have sprung from the creative 
brains of Miss Bets}- Smith and Daniel 
Colman. Few that only knew the 
staid man in after shears, could compre- 
hend what a ga}^ fellow he then was. 

In Mr. Colman's employ' was a .young 
man, the son of a deceased pastor of 
Rowley, John Jewett, a very clever, 
but rather simple fellow, who was in- 



OP A no:n"Agen-aeian'. 



103 



formed that he ought to invite Miss Haz- 
eltine to go to Pkim Island. "She re- 
ceived no invitation at the time of the 
part}' ; for the honor of Byfield this over- 
sight ought to be repaired. A clergy- 
man's son, he was the one for her escort. 
He should have the new chaise and 
David's horse, the most stylish equip- 
ment." 

At first John demurred, but his cour- 
age having been raised by the bribe of 
a pound of tobacco, an article of which 
he was inordinately fond, a few eve- 
nings after the party, the 3'oung man 
all in his best — and he always dressed 
handsomel}' — dashed up to Dr. Parish's 
door, in the unexceptionable turnout, 
and inquired for Miss Nancy Hazeltine. 
Upon that lady's appearance, in his 
most courtly manner, and he was very 
well bred, he requested the pleasure of 
her company on a ride to Plum Island 
the next afternoon. Miss Nancy drew 
back in surprise and horror, and with 
an indignant exclamation, slammed the 
door in the face of the astonished gal- 
lant, who after standing a moment on 
the door-stone in bewildered astonish- 
ment, returned to the chaise, and drove 
home with curses both loud and deep 
upon his lips. Miss Nancy sought her 
room in such an hysterical excitement 
that it roused the household. 

Dr. Parish was subject to slight fits 
of illness, accompanied b_y great de- 
pression of ' spirits, — his hypo spells, 
his wife denominated them. He had 
been suffering from one of these at- 
tacks, had been confined to his bed sev- 
eral days, but upon learning what had 
occurred he rose, and hurrying on 
his clothes, summoned the young teach- 
er to his presence. She appeared irate 
and sobbing. Bidding her be seated, 
the clergyman exclaimed, "Why, Miss 



Nancy, I am surprised at this excite- 
ment. Do not let your feelings be 
wounded ! John Jewett is a very esti- 
mable young man, very estimable. He 
is a minister's son, Miss Nancy, his 
father was a very worthy man, old Par- 
son Jewett of Rowley. Dry your eyes, 
and compose yonr spmts, my dear, no 
harm is done, John is a deserving 
young man, a minister's son. Miss Nan- 
cy, a minister's son." 

Somewhat mollified. Miss Nancy re- 
tired, and the clergyman called for tea 
and toast, entirely cured of his hypo. 



CHAPTER XXVI. • 

My father had reached his goal. By 
industry and economy the whole of the 
ancestral acres had been secured. His 
heart was in his work ; he was a good 
agriculturalist, and had given great at- 
tention to fruit culture. He had plant- 
ed and grafted some two or three hun- 
dred apple trees ; there was quite a va- 
riety of pears and a thi'iving peach or- 
chard on the place. Grapes grew 
spontaneously. The stone walls were 
covered with vines which bore luxuri- 
antly large, luscious clusters both of 
the purple and white grapes. There 
was a diflerence in the quality of this 
wild fruit, some being equal if not su- 
perior to that produced in our gardens 
at the present time. The farm on the 
September of that year presented a 
tempting array of fruit. The trees 
never looked finer than on the twelfth 
of the month. The day was warm and 
cloudy ; at dusk it began to rain. I 
had a piece of linen whitening on the 



104 



RElVinnSCElS-CES 



grass ; fearing it might mildew, I went 
to take it in, and was struck b}' the sul- 
try stillness of the night. After I went 
to my chamber, I sat some time at the 
open window enjoying the quiet rain 
which was faUing steadily. About mid- 
night I was awakened by the unbarring 
of the front door, and mother screaming 
"something terrible is coming!" as 
she hastily opened and closed it. At 
the moment a strange rush and roar 
struck m}' ear, rapidl}- advancing. I 
could liken it to nothing but wagons 
rattling over frozen ground, but it 
more nearly resembled the noise of a 
railroad train. Lightning flashed, 
thunder pealed, and rain poured in tor- 
rents. Springing from bed, I seized 
my sister, a girl of ten, and with the 
half awakened child descended the 
stairs, and passing through the front 
entr}^, entered the west room. The 
rush, roar, crash and din are wholly* 
indescribable, accompanied by such 
dense darkness, that not a thing was 
discernible. Half way across the 
front room, we were stopped by a ter- 
rible bang and crack, at the same mo- 
ment a missile was hurled through the 
broken window, which, striking Susan, 
fell in the fire-place opposite. The 
child shrieked fearfully ; dragging her 
by the arm, I rushed into the kitchen 
screaming, "Sukey is dead, Sukey is 
dead ! " 

The whole family had collected in the 
room. The cry was for a light, but in 
the fright and confusion not a candle- 
stick of the number always there could 
be found. I mustered sufficient compo- 
sure to bring a candle from the box in 
the cellar- Avay ; raking open the embers 
on the hearth it was quickly lighted. 
Speedil}' as this had been effected, by 
the time I had put it in the candle-stick 



the tornado had passed. As I turned 
to place the light on the table, the moon 
burst from the clouds, its beams falling 
brightly on the white floor. Father 
opened the back door. With the ex- 
clamation, "I am ruined!" he sallied 
back into a chair and buried his face 
in his hands. Pale and dismayed, 
we peered forth. At first nothing was 
distinguishable but one general wreck 
and ruin, unroofed buildings, prostrate 
trees and fences, mixed with the debris 
of broken farming tools and household 
utensils. M3' father was not a man to 
long succumb to misfortune. Proceed- 
ing to di'ess, he bade the bo3^s get into 
then* clothes. Our first thought was of 
the cows. As we stepped out to seek 
them, we met uncle Thurrell, his sou 
and hired man. They were still too 
much confused to know the extent of 
the injury done to their premises, but 
the barn was partly unroofed, the corn 
barn tipped over, and the cider mUl, a 
large, '.heavy building, had been lifted 
from its foundation and carried several 
rods. The cows wera safe, crouched 
together, a frightened group in the field, 
and two cossets that had been with them 
in the cow-yard had taken refuge in the 
barn, the doors of which had been 
burst open. The horse had been at 
pasture half a mile away, but as the 
men and boj's went out she came whin- 
nying towards them. AVhether she ran 
or blew home we never knew, but she 
evidently had a long story to tell, if it 
could have been understood. 

Nearh' half of the roof of our house 
was gone, and a thuxl of that of the 
long barn. A large shed had been 
blown from the end of the barn and 
flung against the end of the house. 
The concussion, as this came against the 
wall, was the cause of m^- fright as I 



OF A I^ON'AGE:NrAEIAN-. 



105 



crossed the room with vay sister. From 
seventy to eight}" trees laid on the 
ground. A cart loaded with hay, that 
had been left the previous evening front 
of the barn, had entirely disappeared, 
not a vestige of it was ever seen except- 
ing one wheel which la}' near the back 
door. Two heavy ox-sleds piled in the 
yard, had been carried a considerable 
distance ; barrels, boxes, etc. had been 
taken from the garret with the roof and 
scattered about the yard, amongst these 
was a basket of feathers, which had 
been set down unharmed by the front 
door. A brass kettle, that had been 
hanging by the back door, was found 
some weeks after, battered and bent, 
in a swamp a quarter of a mile away. 
The potatoes were blown from the hills. 
The shed that had come from the barn 
had shielded the wood-pile, and the 
milk-pails at the end of the house were 
found hanging upon the stakes. 

Upon examination it was found that 
about the same number of trees had 
been uprooted on uncle Thurrell's place 
as ours ; the Doles also sustained some 
injury to their orchard, but their build- 
ings stood Ijelow the track of the hur- 
ricane. On Ilsley's hill, the barn doors 
and the bade door of the house were 
unhinged, and the cow-yard fence was 
thrown down. Jonathan Ilsley, going 
home from a party, to his surprise, 
found the cows in the corn field ; as he 
drove them home, he saw the injury to 
the premises. Hastening into the 
house he awoke the family to learn what 
had happened, but not a soul could tell ; 
theh' slumbers had been so sound, the 
storm had not awakened them. 

Farther on, the barn of Mr. Daniel 
Ordway was entu'ely demolished. Day- 
light disclosed a straight line of pros- 
trate trees, the path of the tornado as 



it had passed over Bradford woods, but 
after leaving Mr. Ordway's, little dam- 
age was done ; its track was, however, 
traced to a wharf in Newburyport, 
where it overturned a small building. 

The next morning we learned that a 
small house, about four miles above us 
in Bradford had been destro^-ed, one 
child killed and the rest of the family 
injiti-ed. The furniture of this house 
was widely scattered. A bonnet be- 
longing to the mistress of the place be- 
ing found in the lower parish of West 
Newbury, some distance beyond Ord- 
way's barn. Before sunrise Mr. Ste- 
phen Noyes from the main road coming 
over Crane-neck street, on his way to 
the grist mill at Byfield, to his conster- 
nation descried the havoc on the top of 
the hiU. Scarcely crediting his sight, 
he drew rein at Mr. Pillsbury's. The 
famil}' had just risen ; neither they nor 
that of their opposite neighbor, Mr. 
Stephen Little, had l)een awakened by 
the tornado. In a body these neigh- 
bors hastened to our house. At that 
moment, David Goodrich, a young man 
residing a quarter of a mile below, rode 
furiously up the lane. The party that 
Mr. Ilsley had attended, had been at 
his house. Dancing had continued till 
past twelve ; in the merriment no one 
had heeded the shower, and when the 
company dispersed the sky was clear, 
and the moon was shining. Going to 
the barn in the morning, and chancing 
to glance up the hill, to his utter amaze- 
ment and fright, he saw the devasta- 
tion. Stopping neither for coat nor 
saddle, he mounted his horse and gal- 
loped to our aid. The neighborhood, 
and ere long, the whole town was 
aroused ; many came from Byfield, and 
some from Newburyport. Bands were 
organized, and everybody went to 
14 



106 



REanNISCEI^^CES 



work with a will to repair the dam- 
age. Amongst the first and most 
zealous, was Mr. Edward Hill. By 
seven o'clock he came in bearing his 
tools ; with a perfectly rational air he 
quietly inspected the buildings, then 
set to work with an industry which 
continued until the premises were again 
in order. 

Derricks were rigged, and the process 
of resetting the apple trees commenced. 
The hurricane came Wednesday night ; 
before sunset Saturday evening every 
tree had been replaced, and the build- 
ings covered. Nothing remained un- 
done, but the repairing of fences, and 
a general setting to rights of small 
things about the house and grounds. 
I believe that every one of those trees 
lived, some presenting rather a crooked 
and gnarled appearance, but year b}' 
year they bore a goodl}' burden, and 
several are still standing vigorous and 
fruitful. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Prior to my l)irth there had been an 
exodus of Nowbur}' people to the wilds 
of New Hampshire ; Littles, Gerrishs, 
Coffins, Pillsbur3-s, Pearsons and Dodg- 
es. These settled in the town of Bos- 
cawen. The Littles established them- 
selves on a long and high hill, much 
resembling " Crane-neck in their native 
town. There is a legend ' ',that the Lit- 
tles always settled on high ground, and 
purchased the land that joined them." 
Not a loveher spot could have been 
selected than "Little's Hill." Kear- 
sarge uprearing its lofty head near by, 
and the Blackwater meandering in the 
distance. A tract of land belonging to 



the estate of the'father of David Em- 
ery, was located in Boscawen ; thither 
Mr. Colman annually drove a herd of 
cows for pasturage, the milking and 
cheese-making being done in the fami- 
ly of Mr. Joseph Little. In this way 
the sons of the By field household be- 
came almost domesticated in the place. 
For several years it had been the cus- 
tom for these Boscawen farmers, du- 
ring the winter leisure, to go to Mas- 
sachusetts and purchase fresh fish, 
which, in a frozen state, were taken 
in box sleds drawn b}- a span of 
horses, to Montreal in Canada, where 
they met with a ready sale at renumer- 
ative price during Lent. A return load 
of furs and other articles rendered 
these trips exceedingly profitable. 

Having from boyhood heard the ac- 
counts of these jourue3'S, David Em- 
erj' conceived a strong dcske to visit 
Montreal and try his luck in a venture 
there. On the twenty-seventh of De- 
cember, he joined a party consisting of 
INIessrs. Enoch and Joseph " Gerrish, 
Mr. Nathan Carter and a Mr. Clough. 
After a month's absence, he returned 
highly delighted with the trip, which 
had combined both pleasure and profit. 

I was making my usual winter visit 
in town and had gone to pass a day at 
Mr. Jeremiah Colman's. A shadow 
darkened the window ; glancing up, to 
our surprise, as he had not been expect- 
ing for a week, whom should we espy 
but David Emery. The dinner hour 
was enlivened b}^ the young man's 
graphic account of the journe}'. His 
companions were a jolly set, the man}' 
little blunders and mishaps inseparable 
from such a trip, had given amusement 
rather than annoyance. The inconven- 
ience of the small and crowded houses 
of entertainment had been received in 



OF A NOIfAGENAEIAN". 



107 



the same spirit. I never 3'et saw a 
Gerrisli that could not extract some fun 
from his surroundings, let them be ever 
so dismal. Mr. Emery had been ex- 
ceedingly entertained with the novelty 
of French Canadian life. He was 
pleased with their stoves, and especiall}' 
praised their bread. Montreal im- 
pressed him favorabl}'. thoiigh the cold 
was so intense during the whole of his 
stay, that "you are freezing," was the 
hourly cry from one person to another 
on the street. Notwithstanding the 
bitter weather he managed to see the 
citj'. His busines brought him in con- 
tact with the officers of the garrison, 
and he made many pleasant acquaintan- 
ces, and was shown much attention and 
hospitality. He attended high mass at 
the cathedral, thus getting a sight of va- 
rious dignitaries, and a knowledge of 
the pomp of the service of that church 
to which he had been introduced in the 
wilderness. A description of a swap 
of horses on the plains of Abraham, 
elicited peals of laughter. Thither the 
farmers around Montreal were wont to 
gather on certain da3'S for the barter 
and sale of horses. One of Mr. Em- 
er3-'s horses having become quite lame, 
he was desirous to exchange it for the 
home journey, but totally unacquainted 
with French, he was at a loss how to 
manage. Having spoken to his friends 
upon the subject, he was directed to 
ride out to the plains, he would find the 
dealers drawn up in a line, he must 
ride out before them, waving his whip 
and uttering an indescribable cry, some- 
thing not belonging .to any known lan- 
guage, but which was peculiarly ludi- 
crous. Doing as du'ected, he made a 
good exchange, procured a strong, kind 
horse. His load home consisted of 
sewing- silk and furs. He brought me 



some splendid sable skins, which were 
made into an elegant muff and tippet, 
the tippet, a deep cape with long ends, 
and the muff of the huge dunensions 
worn in those days. This was my first 
visit to Newburyport since General 
Peabody's family had taken possession 
of their fine new mansion on State, 
corner of Harris street, the lower half 
of the present Merrimac House 

The estate upon which my uncle's 
palatial residence was built, had for- 
merly extended up State, nearly to 
High, and down to the estate of 
Dr. Lowell, afterward the site of the 
Trac}' mansion, thence it ran back to 
Green street. Harris street was cut 
through the grounds, thus deriving its 
name. The Harrises had been a dis- 
tinguished colonial family. The Rev. 
Henry Harris, the father of Benjamin 
Harris, the pi'oprietor of the State 
street propertj', was one of the first 
missionaries sent from England, to fill 
the rectorship of King's Chapel, Bos- 
ton. The oldest daughter of Benja- 
min Harris, who was an enterprising 
merchant, married Joseph Hooper, a 
son of "King Hooper" of Marblehead. 
Mr. Hooper, a loyalist, left this countrj- 
with many others of like view in 1774. 
He never returned, and his property 
in Marblehead was confiscated. His 
wife resided in the Harris mansion un- 
til her death, when Gen. Peabody pur- 
chased it. A handsome house of the 
ante-Revolutionary style, the new pro- 
prietor was by many strongly urged 
not to build, bat three-storied brick 
houses were going up on all sides, and ' 
my uncle concluded to follow the fash- 
ion. 

The Harris mansion was sold to E. 
and i. Swett, and moved to Marlborough 
street. The new house, in the archi- 



108 



REMINISCEI^CES 



lecture common for a genteel residence 
at that period, was a square, brick struc- 
ture, with a flat roof edged b}' a wooden 
balustrade, a portico over the front en- 
trance on State street, and a side door, 
with a long L and shed extending to the 
stable on Harris street. In the rear 
stretclied a garden handsomely laid out 
the trim parterres then in vogue, and well 
stocked with choice flowers and fruits. 
The principal entrance opened into a 
hall, a door leading to the garden at the 
lower end. To the left two parlors 
opened to each other b}^ folding doors ; 
to the right was the sitting or dining 
room, and across the end entry came 
the kitchen. The chambers in both 
stories corresponded to the rooms be- 
low ; and from the upper story and the 
roof a magnificent view of the sur- 
rounding country, the river avid bay, 
were obtained. In the L a large outer 
kitchen had l)eeu fitted with a *•' Rum- 
ford Cooker}'." Tliis Avas a huge con- 
trivance of brick and masonry invented 
b}' the celebrated Count Rumford. It 
had several boilers of different sizes, 
and other devices to facilitate domestic 
purposes, with apertures under each 
for a wood fire. The furnishing of 
this new house corresponded to it in 
elegance : that of the best room was 
handsomely carved mahogany with cov- 
erings of a golden tinted damask, and 
curtains to match ; with marble top ta- 
bles, and marble mantels and hearths, 
which were imported from Italy. A 
marble topped side-boad and a piano 
had been purchased in Paris ; the carpets 
were from English looms, and the rest 
of the furniture was as splendid as 
American warehouses could furnish. 

During my visit aunt Peabody invi- 
ted some of the neighl)oring young la- 
dies and gentlemen to tea ; thus I was 



introduced to a circle, most of whom 
became life-long friends. There were 
the Misses Balch, their Ijrothers and Mr. 
Hudson, (Miss Fanny Balch was not 
then married,) the ]Misses Frothingham 
and their brother Mr. Henry Frothing- 
ham, and Mr. John Chickering. Each 
of this merry group, including my 
cousin, Sophronia Peabod}', four years 
my junior, have finished their earthly 
career, and gone to the eternal home ; 
I alone am left to tell the tale. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A farm adjoining my grandfather 
Little's was owned ])y two brothers. Jo- 
siah and Amos Hill. In 1806 these 
gentlemen sold the estate to mv uncle 
Enoch Smith, and, in compau}- with 
Mr. Frank Brown, repaired to a town- 
ship in the District of ^Nlaine, on the 
Pleasant river, a tributary of the 
Penobscot, some forty miles above Ban- 
gor. A settlement was begun on the 
river, called Bi'ownville, in honor of 
]Mr. Moses Brown of Newbur^port, 
who held a large interest in the loca- 
tion. Mills were erected at the falls on 
the river, and farms were cleared from 
the forest. Fifty acres of land was 
presented to am* settler who would 
erect buildings and cultivate a farm. 

This flitting caused a great excite- 
ment in our quiet town. We had the 
bustle of uncle Enoch's family moving 
to their new home, and though we were 
glad of the additional room, the house 
seemed strangely still and lonely, with 
only grandm'am and aunt Sarah. 

Maj. Josiah Hill Avas an energetic, 



OF A :n'o:n^agexaiiia:n". 



109 



enterprising man, and botli himself 
and brotlier were a loss to our com- 
munity. The preparations for this 
new home in the wilderness were nec- 
essarily- n})on a large scale, many hands 
were kept busy for several weeks. 

This enterprise proved eminently 
successful. Each year some of the 
emigrants visited their old home, and 
brought glowing accounts of the settle- 
ment. Maj. Hill's oldest son, Samuel, 
had remained in town, but the third 
year after his father's departure, he 
concluded to join him. An urgent re- 
quest was sent to Hannah Bailey, a 
niece of Mrs. Josiah Hill, to accom- 
pany her cousin ; her aunt insisted that 
she should come and stay a year. 
Hannah was just seventeen, a bright, 
black-ejed girl, ambitious and capa- 
ble ; fearing nothing, and ready for 
an^'thing, it was but natural that she 
should be eager for the expedition. Her 
liither and mother, after a time, gave 
a somewhat reluctant consent to the 
visit, but most of the family were ve- 
hement in their opposition. Aunt Poll, 
a maiden sister of Mr. Baile_v, was 
especially exercised respecting her niece. 
' ' Brother and sister must be clean dis- 
traught, to permit that harum, scarum 
witch to go sich a jaunt. Why, if 
she escaped the dangers of the sea 
there was rivers to cross, and nobody 
knew how many miles of woods to ride 
through afore she could get to Major 
Hill's. Woods all full of wild beasts, 
bears, catamounts and sich like, every 
kind of ravenous animals ; she shouldn't 
be surprised if the Behemoth of Scrip- 
ter was a roving round in them ere 
dark, tangled thickets, all full of snakes 
and other venomous reptiles." 

Notwithstanding aunt Poll's and the 
others' remonstrances, Hannah, not 



the least daunted at their dire prognos- 
tications, sailed in October from New- 
buryport, with her cousin Sam. Hill, in 
an old schooner bound for Bangor. 
The trip was made in safet}'. Xot 
much troubled with sea-sickness, the 
novelty was such. Miss Bailey counted 
the inconvenience of the voyage as 
nought. The weather became unusu- 
ally severe for the season, and the ice 
formed so fast the skipper was com- 
pelled to land his passengers twelve 
miles below Bangor. Mr. Hill had 
taken his horse, so another must be 
procured for his cousin, as there was 
no carriage road to Brownville. Pro- 
ceeding to Bangor to make arrange- 
ments, Mr. Hill unexpectedly found a 
younger brother, who had come thither 
to pursue his studies through the win- 
ter. His horse was to have been taken 
home at the first opportunity. It was 
young and spirited, but Hannah Bailey 
was an experienced and fearless rider, 
and it was decided that she sliould 
mount the steed, while her cousin rode 
his own horse. The baggage was tak- 
en from the trunks and packed in bags, 
strapped behind the saddles. Every- 
thing made ready, fully equipped, the 
cousins commenced the journey. The 
road was onlj' a bridle-path through a 
dense forest. Streams were to be 
forded, fallen trees to be leaped, and 
man^- other difficulties to be surmount- 
ed. Miles apart came clearings, where 
buildings of logs or slabs uprose amid 
fields dotted with burned stumps. Rest 
and refreshment were obtained at these 
houses. The pair were two days and 
nights on the road, but arrived safely 
at their destination, somewhat fatigued, 
yet highly delighted with the trip. 
Miss Bailey remained at her uncle's a 
little over a year, then taking advan- 



110 



KEMrNlSCENCES 



tage of good sleighing, she came home 
with two of her cousins. After my re- 
turn from Newbur3'port, slie paid us a 
visit. We were greatly entertained 
with her livel}' and graphic description 
of the journeys to and fro, and her 
life in the forest. The account of the 
two days ride througli the woods, elici- 
ted peals of laughter, such queer di- 
lemmas and ludicrous accidents pre- 
sented themselves. Her young horse 
needed a firm hand ; at the first run- 
ning stream he hesitated, after a mo- 
ment's consideration, gathered for a 
leap, and sprang across ; Hannah kept 
the saddle, and in this way was taken 
across every brook on the road. The 
elder horse witnessing his companion's 
agilit}', proceeded to copj' his example. 
After Miss Baile3"'had become domes- 
ticated in Brownville, in company with 
her cousin, Charlotte Hill, she .paid 
frequent visits to the farm houses in 
the vicinity, but the two horses could 
never be persuaded to wade a stream ; 
they invariably took them at a fl3'ing 
leap, not a bit to the discomfiture of 
the gay girls. 

Maj. Hill had put up a frame house, 
but the hearths and the lower half of 
the chimne}' were of stone, the upper 
being topped out with slabs filled in 
with clay. There was a stone oven, 
though light could be discerned through 
a chink in the back, there was plenty 
of wood to heat it and it baked well. 

Bolts had not been set in the grist 
mill. The wheat flour for the nicest 
cooking was sifted through a fine hair 
seive, but the bread for common use 
was stirred up from the coarse flour, and 
no lighter, sweeter, or more wholesome 
bread was never tasted. As there 
were no apples, in the earh' summer, 
before the wild fruit came, pies were 



made from young sorrel leaves, which 
were considered very nice. 

Though the nearest neighl:»or was a 
quarter of a mile away, the winter 
passed cheerfully. The Indians were 
frequent guests, and were received 
with kindly hospitality. Their unique 
appearance, broken English, original 
ideas' and untutored manners, were a 
never failing source of interest and 
amusement. 

The next spring, 1809, Maj. Hill 
built a brick chimne}' in his house, the 
brick hearths were the first in the 
towhship. 

The settlement was increased by the 
arrival of Dr. Wilkins, his wife and 
five children, from Billerica. The 
next year the Rev. Samuel May and 
his famih*, moved thither from Boston. 
The clergyman came as a missionary 
for that part of the District, preaching 
in Brownville on alternate sabbaths. 
About the same time a lawyer, Col. 
Kinsman, with liis sons John and Hen- 
ry came to the place from Waterville. 

During the winter Miss Baile}' made 
herself generally useful ; in the spring, 
Maj. Hill fitted a room for a school, 
and installed his niece as instructress 
of the children scattered far and Avide 
amid the woods. The gidd}' 3'oung 
girl proved an excellent teacher, elcit- 
ing the affection of her pupils and the 
respect of their parents. Money was 
scarce in this primitive settlement, the 
school-mistress had no regular salaz'y, 
but she received several handsome 
presents, amongst which was a nice 
dress, and a muft' and tippett of rich 
fur. 

I recall how the afternoon's mirth 
was increased at tea, b3' the wry faces 
made b}' nw youngest brother, Joseph 
Little, over a dish of ale wives. Fro^i 



OP A K^ON'AGEl^APtlArN'. 



Ill 



its earliest settlement, fishing had been 
business in the town. Fishing- 
grounds were laid out, Avhich were pri- 
vate property. I have the deed of one 
that descended to David Emery from 
his grandfather John Emery. 

Our neighbor, Hannah Pillsbury, had 
some years previous, married Mr. 
Abraham Brown, of Byfield. Left a 
widow while her children were still 
young. Mrs. Brown returned to the pa- 
ternal roof, bringing with her five sons, 
two of which were twins. The Brown 
bo3'S and ni}- brothers were intimate 
companions. 

That afternoon Joe. and his crony, 
Oliver Brown, had been to the river to 
look at the fishing, and each had re- 
ceived a bunch of alewives. -Highly 
delighted, Joe. dressed his for supper. 
Father told him that they were so bony 
he would not eat them, but to gratif}' her 
son, mother fried the fish. The lad 
sat down to the table with a keen ap- 
petite, but soon concluded that alewives 
were not exactly the thing for a hungry 
man to eat in a hurry. 

In 1808 Dr. Woods accepted an in- 
vitation to preside over the Theological 
Seminary at Andover. This institution 
had found munificient patrons in two 
citizens of Newburyport, — Mr. Moses 
Brown, and William Bartlett Esq. Mr. 
Bartlett had been enthusiasticall}' zeal- 
ous in its establishment, an interest 
which continued to the end of life. Dr. 
Woods' departure was deplored by his 
friends, their grief however was assuag- 
ed b}' the pride and pleasure experi- 
enced, at tliek' favorite's advancement in 
place and honor. Aunt Ruth Little 
could scarcely reconcile herself to the 
change, but aunt Judy Dole said, "Let 
him go ; he was fitter for a Pope to that 
new Hopkinsian college, than for a coun- 



try parson. She was wilhng to throw 
all her old shoes after him for good 
luck." Several j-ears elapsed without 
a settled minister. The pulpit was 
mostly supplied from the Andover Sem- 
inary. Amongst these young men were 
the afterwards distinguished missiona- 
ries, Messrs Newell and J\idsou. A 
great commotion had arisen in the par- 
ish respectmg the meeting-house. The 
old building had become dilapidated, 
almost unfit for use. Every one conce- 
ded the necessity of a new house, but 
its site was the bone of contention. 
Some, mostly the more elderh' members 
of the society, were desirous to retain 
the old location, — their plea being that 
it was exactly in the centre of the par- 
ish : the others very wisely objected to 
climbing the ahnost inaccessible hill 
upon which the old structure was perch- 
ed, urging that it would be better for a 
few to go a slight distance farther on 
level ground, than all to climb the high 
and steep eminence. Agreement could 
not be reached. The old meeting-house 
grew worse and worse, snow drifted in 
at winter, and rain diipped thi-ough the 
cracks and crevices in summer, still the 
contrary parties could not be brought 
to agree, people went to meeting be- 
cause it was customary and considered 
sinful to remain at home, but there was 
a sad lack of interest and union in the 
parish for quite a period. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

M}' ancestors, with the exception of 
the Johnson branch, came to Newburj" 
either in the band that accompanied 
Messers Parker and No^^es from Aga- 



112 



REJkllNISCENCES 



warn to Quascacunqiien in the year 
1635, or joined the settlement soon af- 
ter. From the Noyes grandmother, 
am descended from the Rev. James 
No^'es, whose brother Nicholas, tradi- 
tion asserts, was the first to leap on 
shore when the emigrants landed. This 
spot is supposed to be on the north 
side of the river Parker, near the pres- 
ent bridge, and the colonists located 
about the lower green, Oldtown, where 
the first meeting-house was built. 
Thomas Parker, the pastor, was born 
in Wiltshire, England, in 1595 ; he 
was the only son of Robert Parker, an 
eminent scholar and an active non- 
conformist. The No3-es family are of 
Norman descent ; originally the name 
was spelt Noye. From the conquest 
the race have been distinguished for 
influence and scholarship. In 14 and 
15 Hen. VIII, William Noyes, of Eix-h- 
fort, was assessed for the subsidy at 
£80, and paid £4 yearly. In 154U he 
became possessed of the prebend of 
Erchfort with its dependencies, and 
died in 1557, leaving a consideral)le 
property to a large family, of whom 
John was M. P. for Laine, A. D., 1600, 
and Robert the elder, who succeeded to 
the prebend, having purchased in 1574 
for his eldest son, Robert, the manor 
and estate of King's Hatherdene, in 
Weghill near Andover. His cousin, 
Peter Noyes, was also of Weghill and 
Andover of Berks, in which county, 
for man}^ generations his descendants 
owned the estate of Trunk well, in the 
parish of Springfield, acquired by a 
marriage with Agnes, daughter and 
heiress of John Noyes of that place who 
died in 1607. Peter Noyes had a sec- 
ond son Richard, and a daughter, Joice, 
married to the Rev. Robert Wield, D. D. 
James Noyes, the teacher at Quasca- 



cunquen, was born in Choulderton, 
Wiltshire, England, in 1608. His 
father was a minister in the same town, 
a gentleman of superior ability and ed- 
ncation. His mother was a sister of 
the learned Robert Parker. Mr. Noyes 
was educated at Oxford, and for a time 
previous to his emigration to America, 
he was associated with his cousin, 
Thomas Parker, in teaching at New- 
bury, where Mr. Parker preached. In 
honor of these gentlemen, the settle- 
ment received the name of Newbury. 
In 1634, shortly before leaving his na- 
tive land, ]Mr. No^^es was married to 
Sarah, eldest daughter of Joseph Brown 
of Southampton. He had six sons, 
and three daughters ; Sarah, who died 
at the age of eleven, Rebecca, and a 
second Sarah. Through life the cous- 
ins, Parker and No^'es, continued in 
the closest intimac}'. They taught in 
the same school in England, came to 
America in the same ship, were pastor 
and teacher in the same church, and as 
Mr. Parlor remained a bachelor, the}' 
lived in the same house. For a few 
3'ears after the settlement of the town 
their residence was on the west side of 
the lower green, but on the removal of 
the meeting-house, Mr. No^-es built a 
house in 1646, or soon after, which is 
stiU standing on Parker street, — a fine 
old fashioned mansion, stUl owned and 
occupied b}' the clergyman's descend- 
ants. A lot of salt meadow, willed hj 
Mr. Parker to his Noyes relatives, has 
never been bought nor sold, but through 
the descending generations has succes- 
sively passed from father to son. The 
Rev. James Noyes died in the forty- 
eighth year of his age, Oct. 22d, 1656. 
His character is thus delineated by Mr. 
Pai'ker : 

"Mr. James No3'es mj worth}' col- 



OF A :N'0N^AGEN^ARIAJ!^. 



113 



league in the ministiy of the gospel, was 
a man oi' singular qualifications, in piety 
excelling, an implacable enemy to all 
hereey and schism and a most able war- 
rioi against the same. He was of a 
reaching and read}* apprehension, a 
large invention, a most profound judg- 
ment, a rare, tenacious and comprehen- 
sive memor}', fixed and immovable in 
his well grounded conceptions, sure in 
words and speech, without rashness, 
gentle and mild in all expressions, with- 
out passion or provoking language, and 
as he was a notaljle disputant so he 
never would pi'ovoke his adversary, sav- 
ing by the short knocks and heavy- 
weight of argument. He was of so 
loving, compassionate and humble car- 
riage that I believe never any were ac- 
quainted with him, but did desire 
the continuance of his society and ac- 
quaintance. He was a most excellent 
counsellor in doubts, and could strike 
at a hair's breadth like the Benjamites 
and expedite the entangled out of the 
briars. He was courageous in dangers 
and still was apt to believe the best, 
and make fan- weather in a storm. He 
was much honored and esteemed in the 
country, and his death was much be- 
wailed. I think that he may be reckoned 
among the greatest worthies of the 
age." 

Joseph, oldest son of the Rev. James 
No3-es, born Oct. 15th, 1637, remained 
in Newbmy, where, for a number of 
years, he was one of the selectmen. He 
died in 1717. 

James, the second son, born March 
11th, 1G40; graduated at Harvard in 
1659 ; was a preacher in Stonington, 
Conn., in 1668; was ordained there 
Sept. 10th, 1676, and died Dec. 1719, 
after a ministry of over fift}^ years. 

Moses, the third son, was born Dec. 



6th, 1643 ; graduated at Harvard in 
1659 ; he Avas the first minister in 
Lyme. Conn., where he died Nov. 
10th, 1726. 

John, the fourth son, born June 3d, 
1645 ; was a member of the Ancient 
and Honorable Artiller}- Company, Bos- 
ton. 

Col. Thomas, the fifth son, born 
Aug. 10th, 1648 ; remained in New- 
bury where he was a prominent citizen, 
representing the town in the General 
Court. 

William, the sixth son, born Sept. 
22d, 1653, married Sara Cogswell, Nov. 
6th, 1685. Children : John, born July 
27th, 1686, William, born Sept. 1st, 
1688; Sarah, born May 10th, 1691, 
and died Dec. od, 1703; Moses, born 
Jan. 27th, 1694, and died Feb. 16th; 
Susanna, born Feb. 25th, 1696 ; INIary, 
born May 24th, 1699, and died Dec. 
16th, 1703 ; Sarah, born Dec. 5th, 
1703 ; Parker, born Jan. 17th, 1705. 

John, oldest son of William and 
Sara (Cogswell,) Noyes, married Tab- 
itha Dole, and moved to the West 
Precinct, Nevfbury, v.hcre he became 
a leading citizen and deacon of the 
church; his estate was on the main 
road near the Bradford line. Children 
were : William, Sara, Elizabeth, and 
Parker, who died in childhood. Wil- 
liam married Lydia Morse ; their chil- 
dren were : Timothy, who married 
Betty Dean, Enoch, who married Sarah 
Emery, John, who married Elizabeth 
Pillsbury, and Molly, who married 
Webster Bailey. 

Sara, the oldest daughter of deacon 
Noyes, remained single ; Elizabeth, 
the second daughter, married Capt. 
James Smith of Crane-neck hill — her 
second husband was Capt. Edmund 
Little. 

15 



114 



REMINISCENCES 



Mr. Nicholas Noyes, brother of 
Kev. James Xoyes, was born m 1614 ; 
he married Mary Cutting, a sister of 
Capt. Jolm Cutting who came from 
Loudon to Charlestown, thence to New- 
bur}' about 164:2. Their children were, 
Mary, born Oct. 15th. 1641. married 
John French. Hannah, born Oct. 
31st, 1643, married Peter Clieney, 
May 14th. 1663. 2d, John Atkinson, 
born June 3d, 1700, died Jan. 5th, 
1705. John, born Jan. 20th, 1646, 
married Mary Poor, Nov 13th. 1668, 
died in 1 69 1 . Rev. Nicholas, born Dec. 
22d, 1647, died unmarried. Cutting, 
born Sept. 23d. 1649. married Eliza- 
beth Knight; died Oct. 25th. 1734. 
Sarah, born Sept. 13th. 1651. died 
Feb. 20th, 1652. Sarah, born Aug. 
22d, 1653. married , Matthew Pettingel, 
April 13th. 1674. Timothy. l)orn 
June 23d. 1655, uiarried ]\lary Knight, 
Jan. 13th, 1680 ; died in 1 710. James, 
born May 15th. 1657, married Hannah 
Knight, March 31st. 1684 ; died in 
1723. Abigail, born April. 1657, mar- 
ried Simeon French of Salisbury, May 
8th, 1707. Rachel, born March 20th. 
1661. married J ame s J ackmau . Thom- 
as, born June 20th, 1663, married Sa- 
rah , lived in Haverhill, and 

died previous to Dec. 30th. 1695. Re- 
becca, born May ISth, 1665. died Dec. 
21st, 1683. 

Mr. ]S[o3'es was one of the most in- 
fluential members of the infant settlje- 
ment, representing it in the General 
Court, and was also a deacon of the 
church. He died Nov. 23d. 1701, 
aged 83. 

Hannah, the wife of James Noyes, 
was the daughter of John Knight, jun., 
son of Jolm Knight, who with his 
brother, Deacon Richard Knight, came 
from Romsey, England, to Ne^vb^uy, 



in 1635. Their children were: Re- 
becca, born Jan. 12th, 1685 ; .Joseph, 
born Sept. 20th, 1686 ; Hannah, born 
March 13th, 1688 ; Nicholas, born Feb. 
9th. 1690. Nathan, born Feb. 5th, 
1692 ; Ephraim, born Nov. 20th and 
died Dec. 19th, 1694: Lydia, born 
Nov. 30th, 1695 ; Ephraim, born Dee. 
25th, 1698 ; Benjamin, born Feb. 22d, 
1701 ; Mary, born March 13th, 1703 ; 
James, born Aug. 19th, 1705. 

Capt. Ephraim Noyes, fifth son of 
James and Hannah (Knight) Noyes, 
settled on the main road, in the West 
Precinct, Newbmy ; he married Abi- 
gail, daughter of Jonas and Anne 
Platts, and gTanddaughter of Deacon 
Joseph Bailey, of Bradford. Edna, 
daughter of Capt Ephraim and Abigail 
(Platts) Noyes, April 7th, 1756, mai- 
ried John, son of David and Abigail 
(Chase) Emer}-. 

The children of Jolm and Mary 
(Poor) Noyes were : Nicholas, born 
May 18th, 1671, married Sarah Luiit. 
and settled in Abiugton l)efore 1718. 
Daniel, born Oct. 23d, 1673, married 
Judith Knight, Dec. 29th, 1702: died 
March 13th, 1716. Mary, born Dec. 
10th, 1675. married. John Noj-es. John, 
born Feb. 19th, 1677, married Ma- 
ry Thurlow. Jan. 25th. 1703; died 
previous to Nov. 2d, 1719. Martha, 
born Dec. 24th, 1679, married Joseph 
Lunt, Dec. 29th, 1702 ; died June 
26th, 1706. Nathaniel, born Oct. 
28th, 1681, married Priscilla Merrill; 
was inFahnouth, 1733. Elizabeth, born 
Nov. nth, 1684. Moses, born May 
22d, 1688, died in 1714. Samuel, 
born Feb. 3d, 1692, married Hannah 
Poor; lived in Abington previous to 
1736. 

The children of Daniel and Judith 
(Knight) Noyes were: Daniel, born 



OF A JS^ONAGEN'AEIAJ!^. 



115 



Oct. 16th, 1703, married Abigail Top- 
pan; died April 16th, 1765. Joseph, 
born Aug. 6th, 1705. married Elizabeth 
Woolman, Xov. 10th, 1726; died 
Se^ J. 15th, 1781. Joshua, born Jan. 
26th, 1707, married Sarah Hale, April 
7th, 1730; died Jan. 1808. John, 
born May 9th, 1709, married Ann 
Woodbridge ; died Aug. 13th, 1759. 
Mary, born Nov. 24th, 1710, died 
Aug. 1794. Deborah, born May 22d, 
1713; married Jacob Knight. Judith, 
born Jan. 7th, 1715, married Benjamin 
Poor. 

Tiie children of Daniel and Abigail 
(Toppan) Noyes were : Abigail, born 
Dec. 28th, 1728, died Aug. 3d 1731. 
Daniel, born Nov. 7th, 1730, died 

June loth, 1735. Zebulon, 

died June 11th, 1735. Samuel, born 
April 25th, 1737, married Rebecca 
Wheeler; died April 1st, 1820. Eb- 
enezer, born in 1739, married Hannah 
Chase; died Aug. 1767. 

Mary and John, twins, born March, 
1741. Mary married, first, Samuel 
Somerby, second, Nathaniel Dole ; John 
married, first, Sarah Little ; second, 
Mary Pierce; died July I8th, 1778. 
Abigail, born Oct. oth, 1744, married 
Joseph Moulton ; died Sept. ISth, 
1818. Judith, born Nov. 1747.. died 
Oct. 1832. 

The children of Samuel and Rebecca 
(Wheeler) Noyes were : Daniel, born 
Oct. 22d, 1765, died Dec. 5th, 1768, 
Samuel, born May 25th, 1767, married, 
first, Jane Moody, Jan. 22d, 1795 ; she 
died Nov. 13th, 1802 ; second, Han- 
nah, youngest daughter of Joseph Lit- 
tle, and widow of James Stickney, who 
died Jan. 17th, 1805. Samuel Noyes 
died July 12th, 1852, and his widow, 
Hannah Noyes, died March 1st, 1861. 
Rebecca, born April, 1769. Ebenezer, 



born April 26th, 1771, died June 16th, 

1794, in the West Indies. Judith, 
born July 13th, 1773, died July 17th, 
1777.' Daniel, born May 6th, 1775, 
died Jan. 7th, 1777. Dr. Nathan, born 
April 3d, 1777, died Sept. 1842. Ju- 
dith, born Veh. 7th, 1779, married 
William Moulton : died Oct. 1822. 

Rev. Nicholas Noyes, graduated at 
Harvard 1667, preached in Haddam, 
Conn., thirteen j'ears, ordained over 
tiie first society in Salem, Nov. 14th, 
1683, and died Dec. 13th, 1717. 

Rev. Edmund No^'es, born March 
29th, 1729, graduated at Harvard 1747, 
was ordained in Salisbury Nov. 20th, 
1751, and died July 12th, 1809. 

Ebenezer Noyes, born in 1739, grad- 
uated at Nassau Hall in 1750, was a 
physician in Dover, where he died Aug. 
11th, 1767. 

Rev. Nathaniel Noyes, born Aug. 
12th, 1735, graduated at Nassau Hall 
in 1759, was ordained in South Hamp- 
ton, N. H., Feb. 23d, 1763, dismissed 
Dec. 8th, 1800, and died in Newbray- 
port Dec. 1810. Sarah, consort 
of the Rev. Nathaniel No^'es, died in 
South Hampton, May 20th, 1771, aged 
25 years, 8 months. 

Rev. Thomas Noyes, son of Col. 
Thomas No3'es of the west parish, 
Newbury, graduated at Harvard in 

1795, and died young. 

Nathan Noyes, M. D., graduated at 
Dartmouth, a physician at Newbury- 
port. 

Rev. Jeremiah Noyes, graduated at 
Dartmouth in 1799, ordained Nov. 16, 
1803, in Gorham, Maine, and died 
Jan. 15th, 1807. 

Moody Noyes, Harvard, 1800, died 
young. 

Daniel Noyes, born Jan. 29th, 1739, 



116 



KEMENISCEN^CES 



graduated at Harvard in 1758, was 
register of probate for Essex, and died 
in Ipswich March 21st, 1815. 

Joslnia Noyes, born 1739, graduated 
at Nassau in 1759 : was pastor elect of 
the church in Kingston, N. H., and 
died July 8th, 1773, aged 34. 

John Noyes, born May 9, 1709, 
graduated at Harvard in 1753, and 
died Aug. 13th, 1759. 

Rev. George Rappall Noyes, born 
March 6th, 1798, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1818 ; was ordained in South 
Brookfield, Mass., Oct. 30th, 1827; 
resettled in Petersham Oct. loth, 1834. 
Elected professor in the Divinity' school, 
Cambridge, in 1840. Received the de- 
gree of D. D. the same year. He died 
June 3d, 1868, aged 70 years and 3 
months. Of Dr. Noyes the late Thom- 
as B. Fox thus wrote : 

" His outward life was that of a stu- 
dent and teacher mainl^', and so pre- 
sented but few incidents or events to 
break the even tenor of its way ; but 
by his Christian character, his learning 
and his intellectual usefulness to his 
pupils and to the cause of sacred liter- 
ature, he won the love, respect and 
gratitude of all who knew him, as well 
as the esteem of such as were only fa- 
miliar with him as an author who had 
helped them in their inquiries after 
truth. Dr. No3'cs graduated in the 
class of 1818 which gave fourteen of 
its members to the ministry. For sev- 
eral 3'ears he was pastor of the churches 
at South Brookfield and Petersham, 
but the greater portion of his days was 
spent in the service of his Alma Mater 
as tutor in the college and as a profes- 
sor on two foundations in the Divinity 
school. He first attracted public atten- 
tion by his translation of the book of 
Job — a work that was followed bv 



versions of the Psalms and the Proph- 
ets. Besides these more elaborate pro- 
ductions, he was a contril)utor of learn- 
ed and critical articles to the Christian 
Examiner. He was one of the most 
diligent and accurate of scholars, and 
everything that came from his pen 
showed the conscientious fidelity, the 
pure, lucid, calm productions of a mind 
seeking alwaj's to be judicially impar- 
tial in its investigations and in the 
statement of its conclusions. His 
scholarship was large and thorough, 
and his industry- unwearied and unre- 
mitted even through seasons of physi- 
cal weakness and distress. 

Up almost to the hour of his decease, 
he was engaged in correcting with 
sedulous care the closing proof sheets 
of a translation of the New Testa- 
ment. The strength and clearness of 
his mental powers, the candor and 
fearlessness of his moral nature, the 
generosity' and justice of his liberality, 
will be acknowledged by all who had 
the privilege of listening to his explana- 
tory defence of the Cambridge Theolog- 
ical School, at the last meeting of the 
Alumni of that institution. His address 
on that occasion obtained a solemn im- 
pression from his bodily infirmity, which 
had not dimmed the healthful bright- 
ness of his mind, or chilled the warmth 
of his heart. . He spoke as it were on 
the border of the grave, and he spoke 
as one who humbly liut trustfully 
awaited a judgment more searching 
than any haman judgment can be. We 
alhideto this, his last public discourse, 
because in it were seen the trained 
thinker, the honest and catholic man, 
and the faithful Christian teacher ; the 
culmination as it were, of a life of 
man}' virtues and graces, consecrated 
to learning and to the highest interesst 



OF A nonage:ntarian. 



117 



of humanit}" ; a life none the less use- 
ful, noble, and brave, l)ecause mostl}' 
passed in the study, the lecture room, 
and in^he retirement of comparative pri- 
vacy away from the bustle of the world 
and unattended b}' circumstances that 
attract the public gaze. Such a life 
could not but win the reverent regard of 
all who witnessed and were benefited b}' 
it, and the memor}- of him who lived it, 
will be cherished as the memory of a 
disciple who uniforml}- sought to use 
the talents intrusted to him, as one 
who never forgot that he must give an 
account of his stewardship." 

The following is a tribute from Dr. 
W. W. Newell. "The death of a work- 
er in the quiet paths of science is 
scarcely noticed by the world ; and yet 
few men of more active life ma}' have 
exercised so deep an influence ; — so it 
was with the late George E. Noyes, 
D. D. For more than twenty years his 
was the leading mind in the Divinit}' 
school at Cambridge, and did more than 
any other to form the minds of the stu- 
dents, who will always cherish his name 
with love. It was from him they ac- 
quired the scientific spirit, patient, 
calm, impartial ; in him the}' saw the 
example of a trulj- devotional mind, 
combined with the most searching anal- 
ysis ; they learned to respect his prac- 
tical wisdom, and to receive his opin- 
ions almost as oracles. Such homage 
from 3'oung, free, and independent 
minds implies great qualities. They 
were sure no word would fall from his 
lips not thoroughly weighed and tested. 
They could trust a moderation which 
always forbore to dogmatize, and to 
express even an opinion on doubtful 
questions, however fascinating the temp- 
tation to leap an unbridged chasm, and 
when he did express an opinion they 



knew it was no result of individual 
preference, or of dogmatic assumption 
but honest fruit of the widest compar- 
ison and the strictest inquir}". In his 
own department, the exegesis of the 
Scriptures, his scholars beheved him 
unapproached in America. Few could 
hear him and not admit that Biblical 
interpretation was now a science whose 
principles were fixed, and that the vast 
dirterence of results arise far more from 
the difterent opinions brought to the 
study, than from the diflEiculty of the 
subject. His translation of the poeti- 
cal books of the Old Testament is, we 
believe, the best in an}' language, com- 
bining a correct interpretation with the 
spirit of the original. His lectures il- 
lustrated to an even greater degree the 
high qualities of his mind, — his great 
shrewdness, profound scholarship, and 
freedom from prejudice. But opinions, 
which he arrived at by individual 
study, and held when they were little 
supported and indeed almost unknown 
in this country, have since become 
widely prevalent among scholars ever}'- 
where. With these virtues of the 
scholar he combined keen wit, and 
great kindness and tolerance. His stu- 
dents did not admire him more than 
they reverenced him ; and his whole 
life was in his work. No one could 
hear him iu prayer and not I'evere his 
profoundly religious spirit, and wonder 
at such a union of qualities. No man 
lives who can fill the place he took in 
health ; and, if in life the general ig- 
norance and prejudice in regard to 
these subjects prevented general recog- 
nition of his merits, in the history of 
mind his name will stand among the 
first of American students who brought 
a scientific treatment to this branch of 
inquiry. In the minds of his students 



118 



REMEN-ISCEIl^CES 



his memoiy will always live and his in- 
fluence always work." 

Francis V. No3-es, born- Sept. 22d, 
1809, graduated at Dartmouth, receiv- 
ed the degree of M. D. at Harvard 
Aug. 1831. He was a physician in 
Newburyport until 1844, and at present 
is a resident of Biilerica. 

Rev. Daniel Parish Noyes, born 
June 4th, 1820, graduated Aug. 1840, 
at Yale College. Taught school till 
1843; was a tutor in Yale till 1847; 
student at Andover till 1849 ; pastor 
of the 3d Presbyterian church, Brook- 
lyn, N. Y., from April 1849, till Jan. 
1854. Secretary of the American 
Home Missionary Society from Jan. 
1854, till June, 1865. Secretary of 
Home Evangelization in Massachusetts 
from Jan. 1865, till 1873. While prose- 
cuting this work, he founded a church at 
Pigeon Cove, Cape Ann, acting as pas- 
tor for a time ; Oct. 1877 was install- 
ed pastor of a church in Wilmington. 

Joseph M. Noyes, a distinguished 
teacher, and Henry Durant Noyes of 
the firm of Noyes, Snow and Co., pub- 
lishers, 13 i Bromfleld street, Boston. 
These are grandsons of the Rev. Elijah 
Parish. Isaac Parsons Noyes, born 
Dec. 10th, 1822 ; appointed assistant 
postmaster at Newbur^-port, June 19th, 
1861; appointed postmaster May 2d, 
1877 ; served on the board of overseers 
of the poor three j-ears, in the common 
council one year, secretar}' of school 
board six years, re-elected on school 
committee in 1878 for two years. 
William Henry Noyes, D. M. D., l)orn 
in Newbury, July 28, 1825 ; graduated 
at Harvard University in dental medi- 
cine, March 9th, 1870 ; married May 
14, 1848, Sarah M. Parshley of Straf- 
ford, N. H., Children: Ella Ada; 
Earnest Henry, born Nov. 20th, 1853 ; 



graduated at Bowdoin College July 
8th 1875, now studying medicine at Har- 
vard. 

George E. L. Noyes, D. M. D., son 
of Geo. W. No^'es, born in Newbuiy- 
port Aug. 28th, 1850, graduated at 
Harvard University in dental medicine 
March 10, 1872 ; married Nov. 27, 
1878, Mary Hill Goodwin of Newbury- 
port, daughter of Daniel A. Goodwin. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

"Whence cometh Smith, be he Kuight or be he 
squire, 
But from the Smith that for^reth at the fire." 

The arms of Smith, granted in some 
remote age to some meritorious black- 
smith, are : 




51 ^. 5 x-^ n 



SABLE, ON A FESSE DANCETTE ARGENT SEVEN BILLETS 

OP THE FIELD. CREST, A SALAMANDER COUCHANT 

REGARDANT, DUCALLT GORGED, IN FLAMES 

PROPER. 

From the settlement on Crane-neck 
hill four generations bearing the name 
of James Smith have succeeded each 
other on the homestead, and two pre- 
ceded them at Oldtown, making six in 
America. The first of this patronymic 
of whom I have record were Su- James 



OF A N0:N"AGEN'ARIAN. 



119 



Smith, the first baronet of Isfielcl, who 
was the eldest son of Sh- James Smith 
Knt., Lord Mayor of London in 1685, 
who was the second son of Sir Robert 
Smith, of Upton, Bart., who descend- 
ed f n Robert Smith, citizen and dra- 
per of London and Stoke Prior in Wor- 
cestershire. This Robert belonged to 
an ancient family, the Smiths of Cuerd- 
ley, in Lancaster. Robert .Smith and 
his descendants Sir Robert, Sir James 
the Knt., and Sir James the Baronet, 
bore arms : 

AZCKE, TWO BARS WAVY ERMINE ON A CUIEF OR, A 

DEMI-LION RAMPANT ISSUANT SABLE. CREST — 

AN OSTRICH GULES, IN THE BEAK A 

HORSE SHOE ARGENT. 

This coat was confirmed by Flower 
Norroy on the 7th of July, 1579, to 
Thomas Smith, son and heir of Sir 
Laurence Smith of Hough. Motto : 
Duriora virtus — Virtue tries harder 
things. 

The same arms were borne by Fer- 
dinando Dudley Lea Smith, esq., great 
grandson of V\'illiam Smith of Stoke 
Prior, Count}' Worcester by the Hon. 
•Anne Lea, his wife, eldest sister and 
co-heiress of Ferdinaudo Dudley, Lord 
Dudle}' of Halesraven Grange. 

Edmund is another patronymic that 
has descended through the generations. 
It was derived from the marriage of 
Margaret, daughter of Thomas Smith 
of Cockermouth, with Edmund Wil- 
mot of Hampshire. Arms : 

SABLE ON A EESSE ENGRAILED OR BETWEEN THREE 
SQUIRRELS SEJANT ARGENT, EACH HOLD- 
ING A MARIGOLD SLIPPED PROP- 
ER, AS MANY HERALD- 
IC FOUNTAINS. 

Thomas Smith came from Romsey, 
England, with his wife Rebecca, in the 
ship James, to Ipswich, Mass., in 1635, 
thence to Newbury in 1638, and set- 
tled on the farm now owned by David 
Smith. Lie died April 22, 1666. His 



children were: Thomas, born in 1639, 
who was drowned by falling into a clay- 
pit on his way to school, Dec. 6th, 
1648 ; Rebecca, born Feb. 20th, 1641, 
married Aug. 4th, 1663, Stephen 
Swett ; Lieut. James Smith, born 
Sept. 10th. 1645, married July 26th, 
1667, Sarah Coker. He was drowned 
at Anticosti in the disastrous expe- 
dition to Quebec, in October, 1690. 
John, born March 9th, 1648, mar- 
ried Rebecca Poor Nov. 26th, 1667; 
Matthias, born Oct. 27th, 1652 ; Thom- 
as, born July 7th, 1654, was killed by 
the Indians at Blood}^ Brook in 1696. 
This was in King Philip's war. As 
Philip was on the Connecticut river it 
became necessary for the English to 
establish an opposing force in some 
convenient position. As Hadley was 
selected, an increased supply of pro- 
visions in that place was needed. A 
considerable quantity of wheat being- 
preserved in stacks at Deerfield, it was 
deemed expedient to have it thresh- 
ed and brought to Hadlej-. Captain 
Lathrop and his compnny volunteered 
to proceed to Deerfield and protect the 
convoy. This company- consisted of 
the flower of the population of Essex 
— her hopeful young men — all called 
out of the towns belonging to that 
county. Of the twent3^-three men im- 
pressed from Newbmy, on the 5th, 6th 
and 27th of August, to go against the 
Indian enem}', were Henrj' Bodwell, who 
married Bethia, daughter of John and 
Mary (Webster) Emerj-, John Toppan, 
Thomas Smith. Samuel Hills and Jon- 
athan Emer3'. They arrived safel}' at 
Deerfield, threshed the wheat, placed 
it in eighteen carts, and while on their 
return through South Deerfield, as the}' 
were stopping to gather grapes, which 
hung in clusters in the forest that lined 



120 



IlEMINJSOEN"CES 



the narrow road, they were surprised 
by an ambascade of Indians, outnum- 
bering CaiDt. Lathrop's company-ten to 
one, who poured upon them a murder- 
ous fire ; not more than seven or eight 
of the eighty men in the company es- 
caped. Sergeant Thomas Smith, Sam- 
uel Stevens, his brother John Stevens, 
and John Littlehale were killed ; John 
Toppan, who was wounded in the 
shoulder, concealed himself in a water- 
course then almost dry, and drew grass 
and weeds over his head, so that, 
though the Indians sometimes stepped 
directly over him, he was not discover- 
ed. Henry Bodwell had his left arm 
broken by a musket ball, but being a 
man of great strength and courage, he 
siezed his gun in his right hand and 
swung it round his head, and so forced 
his way through the Indians l)y whom 
he was surrounded. John Toppan 
brought home the sword of Sergeant 
Thomas Smith, and it is preserved in 
the family at the old homestead as a 
most precious relic. At the recent sec- 
ond centennial celebration of the battle 
Bloody Brook, it was again borne to tlie 
field by Edmund Smith, of Newbury- 
port, where it was the sole memento of 
that cruel fra^'. The rapier excited 
universal attention, being regarded 
with awe and reverence. Mothers led 
up their little children to touch the 
sword of one, whose arm that wielded 
it, had been mouldering in the dust just 
two hundred 3'ears that day. 

"An inventory of the lands, goods 
and chattels of Thomas Smith, late of 
Newbury, who was slayne when Capt. 
Lathrop was slayne, taken by Robert 
Long and Anthony Somerby, March 
22d, 1675: 76 

Imprhnis foure acres of plowland 3 acres of 



pasture 4 acres salt marsh & 3 acres of 
swamp or slow land .55-0-0 

A yoke of oxen & a 4 yearf old heifer 16-10-0 

His wealing apparrell 5.0-O 

A chest a cross cut saw a broad axe 
2 augurs A maul 2 addes a rule & a 
'■^yP'^i" 2-8-0 

A gnapsack & a bible & 2 paper 
bookes Q,3.g 

and debts due to him about I-O-O 

Sum is 80-6-6 

the deceased was out in the country 
service about 7 weeks he was at first 
corporall and after seigent under the 
said Capt. Lathrop & had all his arms 
& amunition well fixt which is all lost 
except the rapier 

the debs that the deceased owes is 

^l>f*lt ^Q_Q_^ 

Anthony Somerby Robert T.ong. 

This inventorygred in court held at Ips- 
wich the 2Sth of March 1676. As attest- 
Robert Lord cler." 

The children of Lieut. James and 
Sarah (C'oker) Smith were Sarah, born 
Sept. 12th, 1668, married in 1692, 
Richard Kelley ; James, born Oct. 16th, 
1670, married, in 1695. Jane Kent; 
Thomas, born March 9th, 1673, mar- 
ried March 29th, 1715, Martha Noyes ; 
Hannah, born March 23d, 1675, mar- 
ried in 1695, Joseph Pike. These were 
the progenitors of Albert Pike the poet. 
Joseph, born June 8th, 1677, died Ju- 
ly 19th, 1677 ; John, born Nov. 1st, 
1678, married Dec. 9th, 1709, Ann 
Nelson ; Benjamin, born Aug. 21st, 
1681, married April 19th, 1709, Han- 
nahSomes; Mary, born Feb. 27th, 
1684, died Dec. 15th, 1685. 

The children of James and Jane 
(Kent) Smith were: Capt. James, 
born Nov. 25th, 1696, married Dec. 
9th, 1719, Elizabeth Moody; Sarah, 
born June 21st, 1699, married 1728, 
William Moulton ; Mary, born May 
23d, 1701, married Feb. 28th, 1724, 
Moses No^-es; Richard, born March 



OF A NONAGEN^AEIA]!^. 



121 



oLst, 170G, dii'd joinig ; John, born 
June od, 1709, married March od, 
1730, Martha Toppan, and died Sept. 
25th. 1734; Moses, born May 16th, 
1711. married, Nov. 24th, 1742, Lj-dia 
Tr jan ; James, the husband of Jane 
Kent, married a second wife, Sarah 
Ordway, in 1723. Martha Smith, 
widow of John Smith, married Cutting 
Mood}'. She left two children — John 
Smith, born Nov. 3, 1731, and Abi- 
gail Smith, born Nov. 29th, 1732 ; she 
married Jonathan Bradbury in 1758. 
Martha and Lydia Toppan, the wives 
of John and Moses Smith, were sisters 
of Rev. Benjamin Toppan, minister at 
Manchester, Mass., fort^'-seven years. 
They were children of Samuel Toppan, 
who married Abigail, daughter of the 
Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, author of 
the Day of Doom. Rev. David Top- 
pan was a son of Benjamin. 

Soon after his marriage with Eliza- 
beth Moody, Capt. James Smith, hav- 
ing inherited from his grandfather, John 
Kent of Kent's island, a hundred acre 
lot on Crane-neck hill, moved thither. 
That part of Newbuiy then termed the 
" West Precinct," or " Newtown,'' 
was a wilderness, with Indians for 
neighbors. A garrison had been estab- 
lished on the place afterwards owned 
b}' Dea. Samuel Tenne}'. Capt. Smith 
put up a small house — the back part 
of the present dwelling ; the front was 
built a few years later. At its erec- 
tion the house was lighted by case- 
ments hung on hinges, with diamond- 
shaped panes set in leaden sashes. 
These windows were modernized by 
his son James, who remodelled the 
house and built the long barn. 

Capt. James and Elizabeth Smith 
had ten children : Sarah, Samuel, Wil- 
liam, James, Richard, INIollie, Jenny, 



Bett}', Stephen and Moses. These 
ten sons and daughters all grew to 
man's and woman's estate, comprising 
a fine family, the young ladies being 
speciality noted for beaut}' and grace. 
Sarah married Mood}^ Follansbee and 
settled on a farm near Meeting-house 
hill. Samuel married Judith, and Wil- 
liam, Mary, sisters of Mr. David Em- 
ery at the main road. C!apt. Smith 
gave to each of these two sons a thirty 
acre lot, upon which they erected 
houses on Crane-neck road — one above 
and the other below — where the pres- 
ent school-house is located. Isaac in- 
herited the homestead and married 
Elizabeth, daughter of Dea. John 
Noves. Richard married Abigail, a 
sister of Moody Follansbee, and estab- 
lished himself in the shoe l)usiuess in 
Newburj'port. where he built a house 
on Short, now Independent street. 
MoUie became the wife of Capt. Wil- 
liam Noj'es of Newbur3-port. Fanny 
died of consumption in earl}' life, un- 
married. Betty's first husband was 
John Emery, son of David ; after his 
decease she married Col. Spofford of 
New Rowley, now Georgetown. Ste- 
phen and Moses moved to Lancaster, 
where the}' married. Stephen was a 
merchant, and Moses cultivated a 
large farm. 

Capt. James Smith, 2d, and Eliza- 
beth (Noyes) Smith had seven chil- 
dren : Parker, Lizzie, John. Samuel, 
Sarah, James, Enoch. 

Parker married Hannah Savory and 
settled on a farm in Newbury, near the 
Bradford line. Lizzie became the wife 
of Deacon Samuel Tenney ; John mar- 
ried Mary March, and purchased the 
Jonas Platts farm in Bradford, now 
Groveland. Samuel married Sarah 
Bailey ; he became the Methodist 
16 



122 



REMLNISCENCES 



preacher ; Sarah remained unmarried. 
James (my father) married Prudence, 
eldest daughter of Mr. Joseph Little, 
and succeeded the line of James Smiths 
on the home farm. Enoch married 
Hannah Woodman, and purchased the 
farm of Maj. Hills on Crane-neck road, 
adjoining that of my grandfather Little. 
The Smiths of Newbury-, West New- 
bury, and Xewburyport, though noted 
for intelligence, ability, thrift and en- 
terprise, have not lieeu a scholastic 
race. 

Rev. David Smith graduated at liar- | 
vard in ITfH). I recollect hearing him 
preach some time during the interreg- 
num between the departure of Parson 
Toppan and the ordination of Dr. 
Woods. He was a fine looking man, 
and an eloquent divine. His record I 
have been uiiable to trace. 

Daniel Smith, for forty vears an 
apothecar}' in Newbur3'port, died Mar. 
28, 1878, aged 90 years. Dr. Smith's 
drug store (nowS. A Smith's), was on 
Market square. He was one of the 
most upright and genial of men, pos- 
sessing great intelligence and force of 
character. The latter part of his life 
was passed in Lawi'ence. where he 
died. His son. Daniel Talcot Smith, 
born Sept. 17th. 1813. graduated at 
Amherst in 1831, was assistant instruc- 
tor at Andover in 1834-G, ordained in 
Sherburne, Mass., Dec. 5th, 1836. 
Has been for man}- years professor in 
the Bangor Theological Seminar^-. 

Thomas Smith, the first in America, 
bore the arms of Edward Smith of 
Hampshire : 

SABLE ON A FESSE, ENGRAILED OU, BETWEEN THUEE 

DEMI-LIONS PASSANT, AROENT, AS MANY 

FLEUUDELIS GULES. 

The ancient arms of Smith of Cuerdley 
were : 



SABLE, SIX FLEUE-DE-Ll?, THREE, TWO, AND ONE 
ARGENT. 

Of the English ancestor to whom 
the arms of Smith were first issued I 
have no account. 

William Smith, Bishop of Lincoln, a 
descendant of the Smiths of Cuerdle\- 
County, Lancaster, was born at Peel 
House in the township of Widness and 
chapelry of Farnsworth, in the parish 
of Prescot Count}'. Lancaster, about 
the year 1460. In 1492 he was made 
Bishop of Litchfield and Coventrj-, and 
on the 18th of May, 1495, he was trans- 
lated to the see of Lincoln. About 
the year 1509. in conjunction with Sir 
Richard Sutton of Sutton near Mac- 
clesfield, he founded a college in the 
University of Oxford, -'commonly 
called the King's Haule and Colledge of 
Brazen Nose." He also held the im- 
portant office of Lord President of the 
Marches of Wales from the 17th of 
Henry VII to the 4th of Henry VIII. 
He made his will on the 26th of Dec. 

1512, appointing William Smith, Arch- 
deacon of Lincoln, Gilbert Smith, 
Archdeacon of Northampton, Thomas 
Smith of Chester, merchant, and oth- 
ers, his executors. He died at his pal- 
ace at Buckden on the 2d of January, 

1513, and was buried in the nave of 



OP A NONAGEI^AKIJLN. 



123 



Lincoln Cathedral, near the. great west- 
ern door. Among his other benefac- 
tions were a chapel in Farnsworth 
Church, and a grammar school at the 
same place. The arms of the Bishop 
ar'^ 

AliGENT, A CHEVRON PABLE BETWEEN THREE ROSES 
GULES, BARBED AND SEEDED VERT. 

He sealed with a W (the initial of his 
Christian name) between three roses. 
On the brass to his memory in Lincoln 
Cathedral, were four escutcheons, — one 
bearing his arms, two containing those 
of his two sees — Litchfield and Lin- 
coln, and a fourth blazoned with a sol- 
taire between four fleur-de-lis. 

Of the Cuerdlc}^ family were Thomas 
Smith, twice Mayor of the city of Ox- 
ford, and Thomas Smith, of Chester, a 
near relative and one of the executors 
of Bishop Smith. This Cuerdley family 
well observed the injunction, "to in- 
crease and multiply." Sir Thomas 
Smith of Hatherton, a descendant of 
Thomas of Chester, had twenty-two 
children. Robert Smith, esq., some- 
time citizen and draper of London, who 
died 23d of March, 1609-10, had elev- 
en sons and six daughters, all of whom 
are represented upon his monumental 
brass in Stoke Prior Church, Worces- 
tershire. His son Robert w'as the first 
baronet of Upton. Robert's second 
son, Sir James Smith, Knt., Avas Lord 
Ma3'or of London in 1685, and his 
eldest son Sir James Smith wns the 
first baronet of Isfield. 

John Smith of St. Giles's, Cripple- 
gate, entered his pedigree in 1663 as 
the tenth son of John Smith, of "Stoke 
Priory," and be married two wives and 
was the father of ten children. Of the 
same famil}- was William Smith, of 
Cahir Moyle, Ireland, who had issue, 



two daughters and co-heiresses — Char- 
lotte, married to Sir Edward O. Brien. 
Bart, and Harriet, wife of Thomas Ar- 
thur, Esq. of G-lenoraera. The arms 
of John Smith : 




GENTMAN, & CAPTAYNE OF 2d COM. & 50 SOL- 
DIERS. VERT A CHEVRON GULES BETWEEN 
THREE TURK'S HEADS PROPER, TUR- 
BANED OR. CREST— AN OSTRICH OR 
IN THE BEAK A HORSE SHOE 
ARGENT. 
MOTTO. " VINCERE EST VIVERE.'' 

The exact pedigree of this worthy 
cannot be traced. It is generally ad- 
mitted that he was descended from the 
Smiths of Cuerdley, and he is stated to 
have been born at Willoughby in Lin- 
colnshire in 157'.), and to have been 
descended b}^ his mother from the Rie- 
cards of Great Heck in the West Rid- 
ing of Yorkshire. He was in the ser- 
vice of Sigisnuind, bi'other to Duke of 
Transjdvania, from whom he received 
in 1623 "three Turks' heads in a shield 
for his arms by patent under his hand 
and seal, with an oath ever to wear 
them in his colors, his picture in gold, 
and three hundred ducats yearly for a 
pension." This coat was granted in 
memory of three Turks, whom with 
his own sword he overcame, and cut 
off their heads, in the province of 
Transylvania. 



12i 



EEMIN'ISCEN'CES 



Captain Smith after various advent- 
ures in tlie old and new worlds, his life 
being saved by Pocahontas, etc., died 
in London on the 21st of June, HVM, 
and was buried in St. Sepulchre's, in 
the choir, where is, or Avas, a long in- 
scription to his menior}' in ''fine tink- 
ling rh3'me and flowing verse," setting 
forth his great prowess and many vir- 
tues : 

"How that he did divide from Pagans three 
Their heads and lives, types of liis eliivaliie; 
For wliieli great service in that clinrated one, 
Brave Sigisnmndus, King of Hungarion, 
Did give him a coat of arms to weare, 
Those conquered heads got l>y his sword and 
speare," etc. 

Sir Thomas Smith of They don 
Mount, Essex count}', was secretary' to 
King Edward the Sixth and Queen 
Elisabeth. His famih' claim descent 
from Sir Roger de Clarendon, Knt., a 
natural son of Edward the Black 
Prince. 

• Sir Thomas Smith of Hill Hall, Es- 
sex, was created a baronet in 1G61, 
his arms were : 

SABLE, A FESSE DANCETTE ARGENT, BILLETT OF THE 
FIELD, BETWEEN THREE LlONS RAMPANT, 
GUARDANT OF THE SECOND, EACH SUP- 
PORTING AN ALTAR OR, FLAMING 
PROPER. CREST— A SALA3IAN- 
DER IN FLAMES, DUCALLY 
GORGED, llfeoUARD- 
ANT PROPER. 

Some have supposed this crest indica- 
tive of the escape of Sir. Thomas from 
being burned in (^ueen Mary's reign, 
but the fier\- crest is rather allusive to 
the "Smith that forgeth at the fire" of 
honest Verstegan. 

Thomas, second son of John Smith 
of Corsliam County, Wilts., settled in 
London and became farmer of tlie Cus- 
toms to Queens jNIary and Elizabeth. 
He purchased the estate of Ostenlian- 
ger (now called Westenhanger) and 
other propert}', in Kent, and died in 



1591, aged G9. By Alice, his wife, 
daughter and heiress of Sir Andrew 
Judde, Lord Ma3'or of London in 1550 
(son of John Judde of Yurnbridge, by 
Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of 
Valentine Chiche, which Valentine mar- 
ried Philippa, daughter and co-heiress 
of Sir Robert Chichele, Lord Mayor of 
London 1411 and 1421, by Agnes, his 
wife, daughter and heiress of William 
Apnldrefield, brother of Archbishop 
Chichele, founder of All Souls), he had 
seven sons. It is said that Smith 
farmed the Customs, at first, for £12,000 
a 3'ear, and that they were then raised, 
time after tune, until he paid £55,000 
a year, and, £60,000 being afterward 
demanded, he relinquished the contract- 
He gave his eldest son Thomas (who 
was made a Knight of the Bath by King 
James) £8,000 a year, and upon each 
of his other sons he bestowed not less 
in estates than £6,000 a year. He had 
six sons, who were sheriffs of six dif- 
ferent counties. 

The surname of Smith is of great 
antiquit}' in Scotland, and of old was 
variously written Sm3-t, Smyth and 
Smith, and sometimes the}' hav^ been 
called Gow, which is Gaelic for Smith. 
The traditional accounts of their origin 
is, that the}' are decended from the 
Clan Chattan : that Niel Croomb, third 
sou of Murdoch of that clan, who lived 
in the reign of Wilham the Lion, was 
their progenitor. The sejant cat is the 
device of the Clan Chattan, the motto 
''Na beau d'on chat gan lamhainu." 
— Touch not the cat without a 
glove. "The Clan Chattan, who gave 
the name to the county of Caithness, 
bore as their chief cognizance the 
wild mountain cat, and called their 
chieftain the Earl of Sutherland, Mohr 
an Chat, the great wild cat." 



OP A N"O^AGEN^AIlIAN. 



125 



CHAPTER XXX. 

On the maternal side nij' first ances- 
tor in America was George Little, who 
came to Newbury, from Unicorn street 
near London bridge, in 1640. Though 
a 3'oung man, it appears as though he 
brought a considerable sum of mone_y, 
as he made an extensive purchase of 
larid, which now comprises some of 
the finest farms in Oldtown, most of 
this estate being still retained by his 
descendants. Pe was a man of honesty- 
and ability, often appointed to fill 
places of trust and honor. He mar- 
ried Alice Poore, who sailed for New 
England from Southampton in May 
1638, together with her younger broth- 
ers, Samuel and Daniel, in the party of 
Mr. Richard Dummer. She died in 
1680, aged 62. His second wife was 
Eleanor Barnard, widow of Thomas 
Barnard of Amesbmy. 

George and Alice Little had five chil- 
dren — Sarah who died in infancy, Jo- 
seph, John, Moses, and a second Sarah. 
Capt. Joseph Little married Mar}', 
daughter of Tristram Coffin, Esq. 
Their children were Judith, Joseph, 
(who died at the age of thirteen), 
George, Sarah, Enoch, Tristram, Mo- 
ses, Daniel, and Benjamin. 

Ensign Enoch Little married Eliza- 
beth, daughter of John Worth. En- 
sign Little took his bride to a farm i-e- 
cently granted on Crane-neck hill ; 
this comprised the lower end of the 
hill ; Capt. James .Smith's was above ; 
Mr. Ezra Pillsbury's place lay on the 
northern, and that of Dr. Adams on 
the southern slopes. The bridegroom 
mounted his horse, with his young wi^e 
on the pillion, and with their eflfects 
packed in saddle-bags, they rode over 
the bridle-path through the woods to 



their new home. No shelter had been 
provided. It was pleasant summer 
weather, and the young couple on the 
first day dined upon a large, flat rock, 
which is still preserved as a memorial ; 
at night they sought the protection of 
the garrison house. A small house 
and suitable out-buildings were built, 
trees were felled, and fruitful fields 
soon replaced the ancient forest. This 
pair had seven children : Joseph, Eliz- 
abeth, John, Edmund, Enoch, Daniel, 
and Benjamin. Five of these— Jo- 
seph, John, Enoch, Daniel and Benja- 
min, died of the throat distemper, which 
at one time committed such fearful 
ravages throughout the ^ colonv. The 
only daughter, Elizabeth, married 
Abel Huse. Capt. Edmund Little mar- 
ried Judith, daughter of Dr. Matthew 
Adams of Crane-neck hill ; their chil- 
dren were Elizabeth, Judith, Joseph, 
John. Sarah and Mar}', (twins), 
Enoch, Eunice, Prudence and Hannah. 
Elizabeth married Abram Day, and 
moved to Bradford. Judith married 
twice — first Abram Adams, at the 
''Farms;" second, Capt. Joseph 
Noyes of Newburyport. Joseph (my 
grandfather) married Betty Merrill. 
Within one year from her nuptials Mrs, 
Little died of consumption ; his second 
wife was Mar3% third daughter of the 
Rev. William Johnson. John married 
Ruth, daughter of Ezekiel Hale ; and 
Enoch, Mary, half-sister of Ruth : Sa- 
rah married Samuel Thurrell, or Thur- 
low. Mr. ThuFrell resided some time 
at the " Farms." In the year 1788 he 
purchased the Dr. Adams place and 
moved to Crane-neck hill. Mary be- 
came the wife of John Merrill ; their 
only child, Lydia, married Dr. Daniel 
Noyes Poore ; these were the great- 
grandparents of the present Indian 



126 



KEMTNTSCENCES 



Hill famil}'. Eunice married Robert 
Adams at the " Farms." Prudence 
died wlien a child. Hannah married 
Samuel Dole ; this pair resided some 
years in Oldtown ; afterwards Mr. 
Dole purchased the March Farm in 
Newtown, and moved thither. 

Capt. Edmund Little apportioned to 
his son Joseph about seventy acres. 
He erected a house and barn at the 
foot of Crane-neck hill, just beyond 
the brook. This was then a consider- 
able stream, with sufficient power to 
turn the wheel of a grist mill which 
accommodated the neighborhood. Capt. 
Little had erected the present large 
and commodious mansion, now owned 
by his great-great-grandson, Edmund 
Little, and here he resided, his son 
Enoch occupying half of the house. A 
smaller one was luiilt for John, farther 
up the hill. The homestead was divid- 
ed equally between these two, who cul- 
tivated the place, annually paying their 
father one-third of the income. 

To avoid confusion I have spoken of 
my father's mother as Grandmother 
SiBith, and have not mentioned her 
leaving the Smith homestead. In the 
j-ear 1787 Capt. James Smith died. 
At that time Capt. Edmund Little was a 
widower. Two 3'ears later widow James 
Smith married her neighbor Capt. Ed- 
mund Little . Her son Enoch- and daugh- 
ter Sarah still occupied her part of the 
house, and cultivated the land. Prior 
to her marriage, settlements were drawn 
up by which, if Mrs. Little survived 
her husband, in lieu of the widow's 
dower, she was to receive a certain 
sum of mone}', and return to the home 
of her first marriage. This aged cou- 
ple lived a most pleasant and contented 
Ufe for fourteen years ; then great- 
grandsir died quite suddenly, and ''lit- 



tle grandmother," as I used to style 
her, returned to her former home. 
Uncle Enoch Smith bought the Major 
Hill farm and moved thither, while 
grandmother sank into her former rou- 
tine, with her daughter Sarah for 
housekeeper. Uncle Enoch tilling the 
land as before. This marriage brought 
some queer relationships into our fami- 
ly. Prior to his mother's second union 
her son James had married Prudence, 
granddaughter of Capt. EdmuiAl Little. 
Thus m}' father became son-in-law to 
his wife's grandfather. The stone 
erected at the grave of my father's 
mother bears this inscription : 

ELIZABETH, 

WIFE OF CAPT. JAMES SMITH, 

AND RELICT OF CAPT. EDMUND LITTLE, 

AGED EIGHTY-SEVEN. 

The first ancestor in America of 
Elizabeth Worth, the wife of Ensign 
P^noch Little, was Lionel Worth, who 
married Susanna Whipple. Her father 
John Worth, married Elizabeth, daugh- 
ter of Israel Webster, the second son 
of John and Mary (Shatswell) Webster 
of Ipswich. Mrs. Webster's second 
husband was John Emery of Newbury, 
who emigrated to this country from 
Romse}', England. 

The arms of Worth are ; 




AUf;f:NT. AN EAGLE IMPERIAL SABLE, MEMEEUED On, 
CREST — A LION liAMPANT PPR. 



OF A N01irAGENARIAI«r. 



127 



The Rev. Daniel Little was born 
JiUy 18tb, 1724. He mamed in 1751, 
Mary, dangliter of Rev. Joseph P^mer- 
son, who died June 2d, 1758, aged 32, 
and Sarah Coffin, June 6th, 1759. 
Though Mr. Little did not pursue a 
collegiate course, he spent several years 
in teaching, and the degree of A. M. 
was conferred by Harvard College in 
1766. He studied theology with Rev. 
Joseph Mood}' of York, District of 
Maine, and in March, 1751, was or- 
dained pastor of the second parish in 
Wells, in that district. Mr. Little was 
one of the most distinguished and in- 
fluential clergyman in that region, en- 
joying a most successful pastorate of 
over fifty years. In 1772 he was ap- 
pointed for missionary service in the 
eastern portion of the district of Maine. 
This work led during the succeeding 
years to be a series of arduous tours 
and he became styled the Ai)ostle of 
the East. He established a school for 
the Indians on the Penobscot, and 
prepared a full vocaljular}^ of their lan- 
guage. Mr. Little was much interested 
in the education of youth, and when 
j far advanced in years, was selected as 
one of the trustees of Bowdoin College 
at its establishment. He died suddenly 
of paralysis, on the 5th of December. 
1801, leaving several children and 
grandchildren ; one of the latter be- 
came the leading partner in the firm 
Little, Brown & Co., Boston. 

Col. Moses Little, born in Newl)nr3' 
May 8th, 1724, married, June 5th, 1 743. 
Abigail, daughter of Joshua Baile}-, 
twin sister of Judith, who married his 
brother Stephen, also sister of Gen. 
Jacob Bailey, a distinguished officer in 
the French and Revolutionary wars. 
She died Feb. 6th, aged 91. 

During Col. Little's earty manhood 



there was much activit^y in settling 
townships ; large tracts of land had 
been granted to the officers and soldiers 
of the French and Indian war ; many 
wealthy people were also securing 
grants-. Col. Little obtained the ap- 
pointment of surveyor of the King's 
lands. In 1750 he was one of a com- 
pany wlio acquired from Gov. Benning 
Wentworth a large grant of the unoc- 
cupied crown lands lying within the 
present Kmits of Vermont. A few 
years after he purchased a large tract 
of land in the township of Apthorp, 
N. II., which was divided into two 
towns, one being named in his honor, 
Littleton, and the other Dalton, from 
his townsman, Hon. Tristram Dalton. 
His possessions in this region were in- 
creased by subsequent purchases, with 
Maj. Samuel Gerrish and Col. Jona- 
than Bailey. He acted as agent for 
the proprietors of Bakerstown, and 
succeeded in obtaining for them from 
the General Court of Massachusetts a 
township of land in Maine in lieu of 
the one granted in 1736, which was 
subsequently decided to be within the 
borders of New Hampshire. By pur- 
chasing from time to time the rights of 
the original proprietors he became the 
owner of the greater part of the grant, 
which comprised a large part of what 
is now Androscoggin county. In 1768 
the Pejepscot Company granted to him 
and Col. Bailey a still larger tract in 
the same county, on the eastern side of 
the Androscoggin, on condition that 
they would settle fifty families there 
before June 1st, 1774, and build cer- 
tain roads. These conditions being 
only partially fulfilled the amount of 
land deeded was diminished. Though 
over fifty 3'ears of age, the v/ar of the 
Revolution found in Col. Little one of 



128 



REMrNTISCElsrCES 



the most active and patriotic of his 
country's defenders. Being senior 
captain, at the news of the British ex- 
pedition to Concord, which found him 
ploughing, he unyoked his oxen, and 
rallying his company, marched to the 
American head-quarters at Cambridge. 
At the battle of Bunker Hill he com- 
manded a regiment. Forming his 
men in Indian file he led them across 
Charlestown Neck under a terrible 
fire from the British batteries and 
ships of war, arriving at the scene of 
conflict just prior to the third and final 
charge of the enemy. Though unhurt, 
Col. Little had several narrow escapes ; 
comrades falling on either side l)espat- 
tered his black velvet clothes with 
blood. In August he returned home 
to attend the funeral of two of his 
children, and rejoined his command af- 
ter an absence of only two days. After 
the evacuation of Boston he accompan- 
ied the army to New York, his regi- 
ment forming a part of Gen. Greene's 
brigade. 

On the 4th of April Washington left 
Cambridge for New York. Expecting 
him at Providence, Gen. Greene, who 
had been detained there, ordered two 
reghnents, Hitchcock's Rhode Island 
and Little's Massachusetts, to appear 
in their best form, and escort the (Gen- 
eral into the city. The minuteness of 
Greene's directions on the occasion de- 
picts the personal appearance of the 
early Continental soldier. The follow- 
ing has been preserved amongst Col. 
Little's papers : 

" Providence, April 4th, 1776. 

Col. Hitchcock's and Col. Little's reg- 
iments are to turn out to-morrow 
morning to escort his Excellency into 
town, to parade at 8 o'clock, both offi- 
cers and men dressed in uniform ; and 
none to turn out except those dressed 



in uniform ; and those of the non-com- 
missioned officers and soldiers that 
turn out to be washed, both face and 
hands, clean, their beards shaved, 
their hair combed and powdered, and 
their arms cleaned. The General hopes 
that both officers and soldiers will exert 
themselves for the honor of the regi- 
ment and brigade to which they belong. 
He wishes to pay the honors to the 
Commander-in-Chief in as decent and 
respectable a manner as possible." 

Upon Washington's arrival at New 
York he arranged the army into five 
brigades, under Heath, Spencer, Sul- 
livan, Green, and Stirling. It becom- 
ing necessary to despatch Gen. Sulli- 
van with six regiments to the north- 
ward, on the 29th of April the troops 
were anew formed into four brigades, 
— Green's third brigade being assigned 
to Long Island. Owing to bad weath- 
er it did not cross until the third of 
May. These troops consisted of Col. 
p:dward Hand's Pennsylvania Riflemen, 
two Rhode Island regiments under 
Cols. James Mitchell Varnum and 
Daniel Hitchcock, and Col. Moses Lit- 
tle's regiment from Massachusetts. 
These ranked as the first, ninth, elev- 
enth and twelfth of the Continental 
Establishment, and were as well armed 
and under as good discipline as any in 
the army. Hand's regiment numbered 
four hundred and seventy officers and 
men, the others having an average of 
about three hundred and fifty each. 
These troops occupied the water front 
to keep the enemy's ships out of the 
river, and to secure themselves from an 
attack by land. To hold the Brooklyn 
peninsula a chain of works was thrown 
up across the neck. Three forts and 
two redoubts, with connecting breast- 
works, were thrown out. These forts 
were named Green, Box, and Putnam. 
The command of Fort Green was as- 



OF A N^ON"AGEJirAilIAX. 



129 



signed to Col. Little, who describes it 
as the largest of the works on Long 
Island, and he resolved it never should 
be surrendered while he was alive. 

Washington's army at the opening of 
the campaign of August 27th consisted 
of twenty-eight thousand five hundred 
officers and men. Of these Massachu- 
setts furnished seven thousand three 
hundred. Greene having been advanc- 
ed to the rank of Major-General, his 
brigade had been placed under the 
command of Brigadier-General John 
Nixion, — a sixth regiment from Mas- 
sachusetts, under Col. William Pres- 
cott, having been added to the force. 

On the 22d of August the British 
troops crossed from Staten to Long 
Island. When tidings of the enemy's 
landing reached Washington the troops 
were immediately put under arms. 
Col. Little expecting that morning 
would bring on a battle, and remem- 
bering his promise to defend Fort 
Greene to the last extremity', wrote the 
following letter to his son Isaiah : 

Aug. 22, 177G. 
I have thought fit to send you m^- 
will. You will take all charge neces- 
sary, &c. The enem}' this day landed 
on this island and marched within three 
miles of our camp. Three or four 
regunents lodge within two miles of the 
enemy. I expect morning will bring 
us a battle. 

Below is Col. Little's account of the 
battle : 

In Camp, New York, ] 
Sept. 1st, 1776. j 

The enemy left Staten Island and 
landed on Long Island the 2 2d, and 
encamped on a large plain five or six 
miles aross, at Flat Bush, four miles 
distant. In the morning at two o'clock, 
the enemy attacked our right wing ; a 
smart engagement for some time. The 
enem}' also advanced on our left. Lord 
Stirling reinforced the right wing and 



defended himself till 12 o'clock, when 
our wing gave wa3^ My regiment was 
in the centre on guard. The enemy's 
right wing almost encircled two or 
three regiments, and as they were not 
together they were not able to defend 
themselves and retreated with about 
twenty wounded. Our people came 
in about eleven o'clock. The enemy 
at the same time with their light horse 
and English troops attempted to force 
our hues, but soon retreated, being met 
with a smart fire from our breast works. 

Two deserters informed us that the 
number of enemy's dead and wounded 
was upwards of five hundred — I wish 
ours may not be more. On the morn- 
ing of the 28th, the enemy were en- 
camped on the heights in front of our 
encampment. Firing was kept up on 
both sides, from the right to the left. 
Weather very rainy ; 29th, very rainy. 
Pairing b}^ both sides in front of Fort 
Putnam. About sunset the enemy 
pushed to recover the ground we had 
taken (about one hundred rods) in 
in front of the fort. The fire was very 
hot, the enemy gave way and our peo- 
ple recovered the ground. The fire 
ceased and our people retired to the 
fort. The enemy took possession again, 
and on the morning of the oOth, had a 
breast work there sixty rods long and 
one hundred and fifty rods distant from 
Fort Putnam. 

Two ships of war had got up the 
sound as far as Hell-gate by this time. 
The general ordered each regiment to 
be paraded on their own pai-ades at 7 
o'clock p. m. and wait for orders. ,We 
received oi'ders to strike our tents and 
march with our baggage, to New York. 
Our hues were manned until day-break. 
The reason of the retreat was, that we 
should have no chance to retreat if the 
ships came up. I am not certain we 
shall be able to keep the city of New 
York. You may hear of our being at 
King's bridge. ^A great battle I think 
will be fought here, or near King's 
bridge. I am in a good state of health. 
I am your affectionate father, 

Moses Little. 

To Mr. Josiah Little, 
17 



130 



keminisce:n'ces 



Adjutant Josiah Adams, Lieut. Sam- 
uel Huse, Moses rillsbiuy, Samuel 
Smith, Chase Colb}-, Richard Short, 
and David Emeiy, were seven of the 
soldiers from Newbury in this battle. 
The two latter stood shoulder to shoul- 
der in the fra}'. Mr. Short ever cher- 
ished a tender memor}- of his deceased 
comrade, — an aflectiou extended to his 
son. To the latest day of his long life 
his first words of greeting always were, 
" David, your father and I faced death 
together." 

The following is taken from Col. Lit- 
tle's order book : 

" REGIMENTAL ORDERS. 
(Col. Little's.) 
Ollicers for fatigue to-morrow — Capt. 
Gerrish, Lt. Kent, and Lt. Atkinson."" 

"Regimental Orders for the 12th 
Regiment of Foot : 

James Holland, a filer in Cap. 
Dodge's Company, is appointed fife- 
major to this regiment, and is to be 
obe3-ed as such. Com'd officers for 
picket to-night — Lt. Atkinson and Lt. 
Fiske. 

May 21st, 1776. Field officer for 
picket to-morrow night — Lt. Col. Cra- 
r}-. Adj. from Col. Little's regiment." 

GEN. green's order. 

May 25, 1776. 
Capt. Silas Talbot of Col. Hitch- 
cock's regiment, Cap'n Frazier of 
Cap'n (Col.) Wayne's regiment, Lt. 
Noel Allen of Col. Varnum's regiment, 
and Lt. Samuel Huse of Col. Little's 
regiment, are a committee to inspect 
the provisions for the troops of this 
bridage. 

June 21, 1776. 
Lt. Huse is requested to oversee 
the well-digging in Fort Green. 

July 18, 1776. 
Field officer of the day to-morrow, 
J^t. Col. Henderson, Adj. from Col. 
Little's. 

Aug. 16, 1776. 
The gin shops, and houses selling 



liquor, strictly forbidden to sell to sol- 
diers, excepting near the two ferries. 
The GJeneral is determined to have any 
soldiers punished that may be found 
disguised with liquor, as no soldier in 
sucii a situation can be fit for defense 
or attack. 

The General orders that no sutler in 
the army shall sell to an}' soldier more 
than 1 gill of spirits per day. If the 
above orders are not adhered to, there 
shall be no more retailed out at all. 

List of killed and missing at the bat- 
tle of Brooklyn, Col. Little's, Twelfth 
Continental (Mass.) 

Captain Parker's Compan3^ 

Killed— Peter Barthrick. 

Capt. Wade's Compan}'. 

Missing — Arehelaus Pulsifer. 
Capt. Dodge's Compan3^ 

Missing — Elijah Lewis. 

After the battle of Brooklyn, Col. 
Little was entrusted with the command 
of an encampment at Peekskill, where 
he was detained In' illness during Wash- 
ington's retreat through New Jersey. 
At the battles of Trenton and Princeton 
his troops were commanded by Lieut. - 
Col. Henshaw, but he rejoined the army 
in time for efficient service. His health 
being seriously impaii'ed, he returned 
home in 1777. In 1779 he was appoint- 
ed ]\y the Connnonwealth to take com- 
mand of the naval armament, which 
was designed to dislodge the enemy at 
Penobscot, but declined on account of 
ill health. He lost liis .speech in 1781, 
from a stroke of paralysis, and died 
May 27, 1798, aged 74. 

Col. Little was characterized by sa- 
gacit}', strength of mind, and a self- 
possession which in the most trying 
situations never deserted him. He 
made the acquaintance of AVashington 
early in the war, who held him in high 
esteem, and often relied upon his judg- 
ment. An autogi-aph letter from the 
latter, with the sword worn at the bat- 



OF A I^ON^AGEXAPtlAN. 



131 



tie of Bunker Hill, and other relics, are 
still in the possession of his descend- 
ants. 

Col. Josiah, son of Col. Moses Lit- 
tle, born Feb. 16, 1747 ; married, Nov. 
23, 1770, Sarah, daughter of Edward 
Toppan, of Newbury. Like his father, 
Col. Josiah Little was noted for energy 
and activity. Until far advanced in 
years, he annually visited the lands he 
inherited in Maine, New Hampshire 
and Vermont, driving over the rough 
roads alone, even after he had lost one 
hand by a premature explosion while 
overseeing the blasting of a passage 
through some rapids on the Androscog- 
gin. He had charge of his father's 
real estate for many years. As the 
agent of the Pejebscot Company, whose 
claims were not ver}' readil}' acknowl- 
edged, he was often brought into un- 
friendly relations with the squatters, 
who were numerous in Maine at that 
time. Tradition has handed down many 
laughable adventures, but frequently 
his personal safety was in jeopardy. 
In Newbury. Col. Little was both influ- 
ential and popular, representing the 
town in the General Court for nearly 
thirty successive years. In addition to 
his other business he was largely en- 
gaged in shipping. At his death he 
left a fortune Aalued at several hundred 
thousand dollars. He died Dec. 26, 
1830, aged 83. 

Michael, oldest child of Col. Josiah 
Little was bjorn March 14, 1772 ; grad- 
uated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; married, 
Oct. 19, 1800, Sarah Stover, who died 
Jul}" 28, 1801. His second wife was 
Elizabeth Ricker, of Somersworth. He 
died March 16, 1830. 

Hon. Edward Little, the second son 
of Col. Josiah Little, was born March 
12th, 1773. Graduated at Dartmouth 



College in 1797 ; married, Jan. 10th, 
1799, Hannah, daughter of Captain 
Thomas Brown of Newbur}'. She died 
Aug. 1st, 1828, aged 56 years. His 
second wife was Hannah, widow of Tap- 
pan Chase of Portland. He studied law 
in Newburyport in the office of Judge 
Parsons ; practised his profession for 
several years with success ; was county 
attorney and publisher of law reports 
for the Commonwealth. After the fire 
of 1811, by which he lost nearly all of 
his property, he removed to Portland, 
and in 1826 to Auburn, where he con- 
tinued to reside during the remainder 
of his life. The owner, b}^ inheritance, 
of the larger part of the surrounding 
territory, he had great influence in di- 
recting and promoting the growth of 
the place. He endowed an academy 
which continued in successful operation 
for forty years. After the formation 
of the high school system the grounds 
and a portion of the funds were trans- 
ferred b}' the trustees to the town, 
which now maintains an Edward Little 
High School. He died Sept. 21st, 
1849. 

Josiah, the third son of Col. Josiah 
Little, born Jan. 13th, 1791, graduated 
at Bowdoin in 1811 ; married, Jan. 
24th, 1814, Sophronia Balch. He was 
an extensive land owner, and engaged 
in manufactures ; a memlier of the 
Maine Historical Society, and an Over- 
seer of Bowdoin College, where he es- 
tablished a professorship of Natural 
Science, and founded the Public Libra- 
ry of Newbur3'port, where for many 
years he occupied the residence of 
the late Dr. Edmund Sawyer on High 
street. He died Feb 5th, 1860. 

Josiah Stover, only child of Michael 
and Sarah (Stover) Little, born July 
9th, 1801, graduated at Bowdoin at 



132 



REMINISCENCES 



the head of the class of 1825 ; mar- 
ried Abhy Chamberlain, Sept., 1833. 
He was President of the Atlantic and 
St. Lawrence Railroad, and Speaker of 
the Maine Honse of Kepresentatives 
for several years. He died April 2d, 
1862. 

Josiah, second son of Hon. Edward 
Little, born April 29th, ISOI, was a 
graduate of Bowdoin, studied law with 
his father, practiced his profession for 
several years, afterwards engaged in 
manufactures. He married, Sept, 2d, 
1822, Mary Holt Cummings of Nor- 
way, Me., who died at Minot, Oct 6th, 
1829, aged 25 3'ears and 6 months ; 
March 30th, 1830, Nancy Wilhams 
Bradford, who died at Auburn, Nov. 
20th, 1834, aged 26 3'ears and 7 
months ; May 26th, 1835, Sally 
Brooks, of Alfred, who died at Au- 
burn, April 15th, 1849, aged 41 years 
and 11 months, and May 20th, 1850, 
Charlotte Ann Brooks, who survives 
him. 

After an absence of many 3'ears he 
returned to his native place, Newbur3'- 
port, where he resided until his death. 
As a man of business he posessed ex- 
cellent judgment. As a citizen he was 
the firm friend of good order and good 
morals, furthering to his utmost the 
well-being of the community. For 
mauA' 3'ears he took a deep interest in 
the church and Christian institutions. 
He died Aug. 9th, 1863. 

Edward Toppan, third son of the 
Hon. Edward Little, born Dec. 29th, 
1809, studied law with his father, rep- 
resented his town in the State legisla- 
ture for several 3"ears, and was Judge 
of Probate for Androscoggin county. 
For man3' years he was a director in 
the Maine Central Railroad and of the 
First National Banlv of Auburn. His 



reputation as an upright and able law- 
3'er gave him an extensive practice. 
He married, Oct. 2d, 1839, Melinda C, 
daughter of the Rev. W. B. Adams, 
who died at Auburn, Sept. 30th, 1842 ; 
and June 9th, 1846, Lucv Jane, daugh- 
ter of Zeba Bliss. He died Novem- 
ber, 1805. 

Hon, Moses, the 3'oungest son of 
Col. Moses Little, born Jan. 20th, 
1767, married, Aug. 6th, 1786, Eliza- 
beth, daughter of Shubael Dummer, 
who died Oct. 22d, 1840. He held 
the commission of justice of the peace 
for fifty 3'ears, represented the town of 
Newbury in the Legislature nineteen 
3'ears, was a member of the conven- 
tion for altering the constitution of 
Massachusetts, and a deacon of the 
Belleville church for thirty years. He 
died April 28th, 1857. 

Moses, son of Moses and L3'dia 
(Coffin) Little, born Feb. 26th, 1691 ; 
married Sarah, daughter of Sergeant 
Stephen and Deborah Jaques, Feb. 
12th, 1716. Lie died Oct. 17th, 1780. 

The following epitaph is taken from 
stone in the upper bur3'ing ground, on 
the Plains, at Newbmy : — 

MK. MOSES LITTLE DEPARTED THIS LIFE 

OCT. 17th, in the 90th 

YEAR OF HIS AGE. 

HE WAS TEMPERATE IN ALL THINGS. 

INDUSTRIOUS, HOSPITABLE, YET FRUGAL. 

A KIND HUSBAND AND TENDER FATHER. 

A GOOD NEIGHBOR AND GOOD CITIZEN, 

AND WHILE LIVING JUSTLY SUSTAINED THE FIRST 

OF CHARACTERS — AN HONEST MAN. 

"A wit's a feather, a chief's a rod, 
An hone.st man's ye noblest work of God." 

Deacon Stephen, oldest son of Mr. 
Moses Little, born May 19th, 1719 ; 
married, Aug. 5th, 1743, Judith Bai- 
ley, who died 1764, aged 40, and af- 
terwards Mary Long, who survived 
him, dying in 1798, in her 75th year ; 



OF A NOlSTAGEIsrAIlIAl!^. 



133 



Deacon Little died Aug. oOth, 1793. 
Jacob, the youngest child of Deacon 
Stephen Little, born 1763 ; married 
Hannah, daughter of Moses and Han- 
nah Sawyer, Sept, 28th, 178G. Their 
seventh child, Jacob, born March 19th, 
1797, in Newbury, Belleville, was one 
of the most prominent of New York 
brokers. His father, Jacob Little, 
was a man of wealth and distinction, 
but connnercial disasters swept away 
his property, and the war of 1812 near- 
ly completed his financial ruin. In 
1817 Mr. Little secured a situation for 
his son Jacob in counting-house of the 
renowned Jacob Barker, and at once 
he became a favorite with that success- 
ful merchant. After remaining with 
Mr. Barker five years, he began busi- 
ness on his own account as an ex- 
change specie broker, in a small base- 
ment office on Wall street. During the 
next twelve years, working eighteen 
hours a day in his little office, he 
promptly and shrewdly executed every 
order, and his success was due no less 
to his integrity than to his talent. In 
1834 Mr. Little stood at the head of 
the leading financiers and bankers of 
the city, but commercial disaster over- 
took him. Thrice Mr. Little was car- 
ried down, but he was never dishonor- 
ed, He recovered himself, and paid 
up his contracts in full. On his first 
suspension, though legally free from 
liability, he disbursed nearly $1,000,- 
000, paying every creditor in full with 
interest, so that it was a common say- 
ing among moneyed men, that Jacob 
Little's suspended paper was better 
than the checks of most merchants. 
He closed his long career without a 
stain upon his mercantile reputation. 
He died March 28th, 18G5, leaving a 
widow and one son. The newsof his 



death startled the great city. Mer- 
chants congregated to do him honor. 
Resolutions of enduring respect were 
adoi)ted. and the Stock Board adjourn- 
ed to attend his funeral. He was 
borne to his burial in Greenwood Cem- 
etery with all honor. 

Paul, the youngest son of Mr. Moses 
Little, born April 1, 1740 ; married, 
May 20, 1762, Hannah Emery, who 
died in September, 1771 ; widow Sarah 
Souther of Ipswich, Aug. 30, 1772, who 
died Sept. 26, 1797, aged 54 ; and af- 
terwards widow Sarah Emerson of 
Boxford, who died May 25, 1817, aged 
55. He moved from Newbury port to 
I'ortland in 1761 ; was a goldsmith by 
trade, but engaged in commercial busi- 
ness to a considerable extent. After 
the destruction of the town b}' the Brit- 
ish in 1776 he removed to Windham, 
where many of his descendants still re- 
side. 

Silas Little, born in March, 1754 ; 
graduated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; mar- 
ried his cousin Lucretia, daughter of 
Joseph and Elizabeth Hazeu Little, and 
died in 1845. Squire Little was a prom- 
inent citizen, and owned a fine farm in 
Oldtown. Among other public oflflces, 
he was one of the selectmen, and a rep- 
resentative to the state legislature for 
several years. 

Moses Little, born July 3, 1766 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1787 ; was a 
physician in Salem, Mass., and died 
Oct. 13, 1811. 

William Little, born Oct. 14, 1825 ; 
married Ellen M. Carlton, of HaverhiU, 
Oct. 6, 1864. Town clerk of Newbury 
for over twent}^ j'ears, and president of 
the Antiquarian and Historical Society 
of Old Newbury. 

David Little Withington, born in 
Newbury, Feb. 2, 1854 ; graduated at 



134 



KEMLN'ISCEI^'CES 



Harvard in 1874. A practicing law^'er 
in Boston and Newbiiryport. 

Lothrop Witbington, born in New- 
bury, Jan. 31, 1856 ; educated at Dum- 
mer Academy and Putnam Free School, 
graduating at the latter in 1872. Since 
1873, has resided a large part of the 
time in England and France. Edited 
and published "The Ocean Wave," a 
daily evening paper, in Newburyport, 
from October, 1878, to April, 1879, and 
was lately on the staff of the Newbury- 
port Herald. 

Russel Moody Little, born in 1858 ; 
a student at Amherst. 

The exact pedigree of George Little, 
of Unicorn street, London, I have been 
unable to learn ; the family descent can 
be traced by the coats of arms. The 
first granted are :• Little — Sable, a sal- 
tire or (another or) . The next record 
of these arms are : Little, Meichledale, 
Scotland— Sa, saltire, engr. or ; Little, 
Liberton, Scotland — the same arms, 
with a crescent for difference. Crest, 
a leopard's head or ; motto, Magnum 
in parvo. 

At some period between 1698 and 
1731, a WiUiam Little, of Liberton, 
county Edinburgh, a gentleman of an- 
cient family, which had been in posses- 
sion of the barony of Liberton for over 
a hundred years preceding, married 
Helen, daughter of Sir Alexander Gil- 
mour, of Craigmillar in the same coun- 
ty. Next in order comes George Lit- 
tle, esq., of Llanvair Grange, county 
Monmouth, Wales. Arms : 

SA, A CHEVKON ENGR. ARGENT. CREST— LEOPARD'S 
HEAD FPR. MOTTO— " MAGNUM IN TARVO." 

There was a family of Littles, of 
Kilnrea, Yorkshire, P^ngland, recorded 
as " long time resident in this parish," 
in 1671, but the arms are a lion. 



The arms transmitted by the descend- 
ants of Georsre Little in America are : 




OR, A SALTIRE, OR ST. ANDREW S CROSS, ENGRAILED 

SABLE. CREST — A WOLP'S HEAD. 

MOTTO — "MAGNUM IN PARVO," GREAT IN LITTLE. 

The arms of the famil}' of Alice 
Poore, the first wife of George Little, 
are : 




OR, A FESS AZURE, THREE MULLETS GULES. CREST — 
lion's head OR. '' 

MOTTO— "pauper NON IN SPE," POOR NOT IN HOPE. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

The Amery's (or Emery's) first an- 
cestor in England was Gilbert D'Amery, 
a Norman Knight of Tours, who, in 



OP A NOKAGEN^AHIAIsr. 



135 



1066, fouglit at Hastings with William 
the Conqueror. The Roll of Battle 
Abbe}^ where the names of the Con- 
queror's chieftains are recorded, gives 
the name as " Darner}'." 

Gilbert D'Amery received large land- 
ed estates from William the Conqueror. 
He owned Thackingdon, and half a 
dozen manors, near Oxford, which were 
held by his descendants until 1376, 
when the third Baron Richard D'Ame- 
ry died. They long dwelt at Berkwell 
manor, ten miles from Oxford, where 
still stands the church they built. The 
property went by heiresses to other 
names, but John represented the coun- 
ty in parliament as late as 1423. An- 
other John settled in Devon, and his 
heir held the manor of White Chapel 
at Bishops Nympton, which Frances, 
the heiress of AVilliam, carried to Ed- 
ward Gibbon, whose tablet, at Tiver- 
ton, is dated 1707. 

Thomas Emery, citizen and uphold- 
er, of London, left a will, dated March 
11, 1533, proved June 2, 1534, be- 
queathing his soul to God, the Virgin 
Mary, &c., and desiring to be buried 
in the churchyard of St. Michael, 
Cornhill, London. 

Edward Emery, of Mary at Rooting, 
Count}" Essex, gent., will dated Oct. 
30, 1637, proved Jan. 15, 1641, names 
elder brother Thomas Emery, and ap- 
points his younger brother, Anthony 
Emery, his executor. 

The Herald's Visitation of Essex, 
1634, contains the following : 

"Thomas P^mery als Amery of Lit- 
tle Baddow co. Essex, Thomas Emery 
of Little Baddow eldest sonn, mar. 
Mary dau. of Folliett of qu Filliot, 
Oldhall in Rayne. Thomas Emery of 
Little Baddow co. Essex 1634, mar. 
Jane, daughter of Bay ley of Wades- 



mill CO. Hertford ; children, Edward, 
Anthony, Mary, EUsabeth." 

Thomas Amery, son of Robert and 
Miss Elliot, held estates near Bristol. 
He married the daughter of the nine- 
teenth Lord Kerry. His brother Jona- 
than came to Carolina as advocate-gen- 
eral and treasurer. His daughter Sarah 
married Gov. Arthur INIiddleton. His 
son Thomas settled in Boston. 

Edwards, in his Life of Sir Walter 
Raleigh, quotes a letter from John 
Hooker to Sir Walter : 

"Your ancestor. Sir John de Ra- 
leigh, married the daughter of D'Ame- 
rie, D'Amerie of Clare, Clare of King 
Edward the First, which Clare, by his 
father, descended of King Henr}' the 
First." 

In a volume of French history it is 
said that when Napoleon had resolved 
to negotiate " avec Rome pour retab- 
lir' L'ancien culte," his first advances 
were " sous la direction religieuse du 
respectable abbe Emery, superieur gen- 
eral de Saint Sulspice." 

Anthon}' and John Emery, the first 
in America, came from Romsey, Eng- 
land, in the ship James, to Ipswich, 
thence to Newbur}^, in June, 1635. 
Romse}" is a rare old town in Hamp- 
shire (Hants), on the river Esk (the 
Auton of the Roman period). The 
broad, but winding and shallow vale is 
indescribably beautiful, with its manors 
and cottages amidst the slumberous fol- 
iage, its wheat meadows, green slopes, 
and crystal "Auton water." Flocks 
of Southdowns dot the pasture swells, 
and myriads of sparrows sweep around 
the ripening grain acres. Towards 
Southampton stretches the superb park 
and forest of " Broadlands," the seat 
of Lord Palmerston. Beyond is the 
old mediiiival town ; the great square 
tower of the abbey church of St. Mary's 



136 



iiemen'isce:n'ces 



towering above the quaint bnikliugs, 
with the walled and buttressed bridge 
of high arches spanning the gleaming 
riA^er. In the chureh^-ard of the old 
abbey (one of the oldest in England, 
a part of the walls having been erected 
in the twelfth centurj', by Henry De 
Blois, bishop of Winchester) repose 
the dust of successive generations of 
Emerys, and within its time-honored 
walls Anthou}- and John Emery were 
baptised. In the churchyard were in- 
terred ni}- Smith ancestors. Thomas 
Smith came from Romsey. It was 
from the worship in this ancient pile 
that the forefathers seceded to join the 
sect of the Puritans. The Emerys are 
still represented in Romse3\ A John 
Emery recent!}' deceased there, who 
counted his descent from an ancestor 
in the middle ages, 

Anthou}' Emery, with his wife Eran- 
ces, and son James (born inP^ngland), 
went to Dover as early as 1644, where 
he occupied land which he purchased of 
Stephen Goddard in 1643. In 1646 he 
had a grant of land of the town, and 
was one of the selectmen of Dover. 
He kept a tavern, but, having trouble 
with the authorities respecting his li- 
cense to sell wines, &c., in 1648 he as- 
signed his land to Thomas Laytou, and 
moved to Kittery, and settled in what 
is now called Elliot. He signed the 
submission to Massachusetts, in 1652, 
and was elected as one of the towns- 
men or selectmen for that year, and 
also for 1654. He received from the 
town, in 1650, grants of land of two 
hundred acres. He was the first ferry- 
man between Kittery and " Strawberr}- 
Bank " ; a prominent citizen, holding- 
several local otHces ; a smart, enter- 
prising man ; and many of his descend- 
ants are notable pei'sons. The time of 
his death is unlvuown. 



James Emer}', born about 1630 ; 
came to this country' with his father ; 
went to Kitter}', and signed the sub- 
mission to Massachusetts in 1652. He 
had grants of land from the town of 
Kittery from 1652 to 1671 of four hun- 
dred and ten acres ; was one of the se- 
lectmen of Kittery for several 3'ears, 
and was a representative to the General 
Court at Boston in 1676. His wife was 
Elizabeth. Children : James, born 
about 1658 ; Zachariah, born in 1660 ; 
Noah, born in 1663 ; Daniel, born in 
1666 ; Job, born in 1670. 

James Emer^^, son of James, mar- 
ried Margaret, daughter of Richard 
Hitchcock, Dec. 18, 1685. Children: 
Margaret, born Dec. 18, 1686 ; James, 
born Feb. 18, 1688 ; Lydia, born April 
28, 1891; Frances, born Dec. 17, 
1694; Rebekah, born March 7, 1697 
(the latter married Daniel Smith, of 
Saco, Jan. 1, 1719, and Matthew Ladd, 
of Falmouth, May 7, 1755) ; Samuel, 
born Sept. 2, 1700 ; Elizabeth, born 
March 7, 1703 ; Thomas, born Dec. 2, 
1706 ; Lucretia, born March 6, 1709. 

Zachariah Emery received from the 
town of Kittery in 1665 a grant of 
fifty acres. His wife was Elizabeth. 
Children : Elizabeth, boru Nov. 24, 
1687 ; Zachariah, born Oct. 5, 1690. 

Noah Emery had a grant of land 
from the town of Kittery, in 1885 and 
1699, of one hundred acres. 

Daniel P^merv married Margaret, 
daughter of AYilliam Ciowen, March 17, 
1695. He died Oct. 15, 1722. He 
had a grant of twenty acres of land in 
1694. He was an original member of 
the church in South Berwick in 1702, 
a deacon in 1703, and an elder in 1720. 
He and his brother James were select- 
men of the town in 1707, and for sev- 
eral subsequent 3'ears. He was also 



OF A n^oxagexaiiia:n^. 



137 



noted surve3'or of laud. His farm iu 
Elliot is still owned and occupied by 
his descendants. His children were : 
Daniel, born June 25, 1697 ; Noah, 
born Dec. 11, 1699, settled in Exeter, 
N. H. ; Simon, born Jan. 6, 1702 ; 
Zachariah, born March 12, 1704 ; Mar- 
garet, born March 3, 1707 ; Caleb, 
born Oct. — , 1710 ; Ann, born March 
19, 1712 ; Joshua, born June 30, 1715 ; 
Tirzah, born Sept. 19, 1717 (married 
Dudley James, of Exeter, Jan. 12, 
1753) ; Huldah, born Aug. 4, 1720. 

Job Emery had grants of land from 
Kittery, in 1694 and 1699, of thirty 
acres. His wife was Charity. Chil- 
dren : Job, born Jan. 29, 1697; Char- 
ity, born April 24, 1699 ; Sarah, born 
Feb. 4, 1700 ; Joseph, born Feb. 4, 
1702 (married Mehitable Stac}', Oct. 
10, 1727 ; she was born Feb. 4, 1705) ; 
Jonathan, born Feb. 27, 1709 ; Eliza- 
beth, born July 8, 1711 ; Mary Abigail, 
born Nov. 17, 1713 ; Miriam, born 
April 8, 1716 ; Jabez, born July 13, 
1718 ; Mary, born Dec. 4, 1720. 
V John Emery secured a grant of land 
on the southerly side of the main road 
leading to the bridge over the river 
Parker, a short distance above the 
"Lower Green," Oldtown. He had 
been accompanied from England hy his 
wife (whose maiden name is unknown), 
a son, John, born about 1629, and a 
daughter, Anna, born in 1631. The 
record of the third child, the first born 
in America, is: "^Ebenezer, a daugh- 
ter, 16 Sept., 1S48, being Monday 
morning, two hours before day." ^'■Ub- 
enezer : Hitherto hath the Lord helped 
us." Evidently this daughter was 
named from hearts overflowing with 
thankfulness. Though Miss Ebeuezer 
might not have exactly fancied her 
christian name, I doubt not it gave her 



Puritan sire the keenest satisfaction. 
Mrs. Emery died the April following 
the birth of this daughter. The 29th 
of October, 1650, John Emery married 
Mary (Shatswell) Webster, widow of 
John Webster, of Ipswich. The}' had 
one son, Jonathan Emer3\ 

John Emery, jr., Oct. 2, 1648, mar- 
ried Miss Marj' Webster, a daugliter of 
the widow Mar}' (Shatswell) Webster. 
Children : Mary, born June 24, 1G52 ; 
Hannah, born April 26, 1654 ; John, 
born Sept. 12, 1656 ; Bethia, born Oct. 

15, 1658 ; Sarah, born Feb. 26, 1661 ; 
Joseph, born March 23, 1663 ; Stephen, 
born, Sept. 6, 1666 ; Abigail, born Jan. 

16, 1669 ; Samuel, born Dec. 20, 1670 ; 
Judith, born Feb. 4, 1673 ; Lydia, born 
Feb. 19, 1675 ; Elizabeth, -born Feb. 8, 
1680; Josiah, born Feb. 28, 1681. 
John Emery died in 1693. Mary, his 
widow, died April 28, 1694. 

Anna Emery married, Nov. 23, 1648, 
James Ordway, who, tradition says, 
came from Wales to Newbury. He 
was born in 1620, and died after 1702. 
Anna, his wife, died March 31, 1687. 
Children : Ephraim, born April 25, 
1650 ; James, born April 16, 1651 ; 
Edward, born Sept. 14, 1653 ; Sarah, 
born Sept. 14, 1656 ; John, born Nov. 

17, 1658 ; Isaac, born Dec. 4, 1660, 
and died Jan. 16, 1669; Jane, born 
Nov. 12, 1663 ; Hananiah, born Dec. 
2, 1865; Anne, born Feb. 17, 1670. 

Jonathan Emery, second son of John, 
senior, married, Nov. 29, 1676, Mary, 
daughter of Edward AVoodman, jr. 
Children : Mary, born Sept. 24, 1677 ; 
Jonathan, born Feb. 2, 1679 ; David, 
born Sept. 28, 1682 ; Anthony, born 
Nov. 13, 1684 ; Stephen, born Jan. 13, 
1687, and died in Oct., 1688; Sara, 
born Dec. 18, 1688 ; Stephen, born 
18 



138 



EEMrNlSCEXCES 



June 24, 1692 ; Edward, born Nov. 10, 
1694, and James. 

Eleanor Emerv, a sister of Anthony- 
and John, married John Bailey, jr., 
who came to Salisbury, thence to New- 
bur^', in 1650. Children : Rebecca, 
born 1641 ; John, bora May 18, 1643, 
and died June 22, 1663 ; Joshua, 
died April 7, 1652 ; Sarah, born 
Aug. 17, 1644 ; Joseph, born April 
4, 1648 ; James, born Sept. 12, 1650 ; 
Joshua, born Feb. 17, 1653 ; Isaac, 
born July 22, 1654 ; Rachel, born 
Oct. 19, 1662 ; Judith, born Aug. §, 
1665, and died Sept. 20, 1668. 

Ebenezer Emery married, April 21. 
1669, John Hoag. Children : John, 
born Feb. 20, 1670 : Jonathan, born 
Oct. 28, 1671 ; Joseph, born Jan. 10, 
1677 ; Hannah, born Jan. 3, 1683 ; 
Judith, born April 20, 1687. 

John, oldest son of Jonathan and 
Mary (Woodman) Emery, married, 
March 1, 1705, Hannah Morss. She 
died Oct. 4, 1732. In 1733, Mr. Em- 
er}' married Reliecca Walker. Chil- 
dren : Hannah, born June 19, 1706, 
married Edward Ilolman, Ma}- 19, 
1726; Joshua, born March 21, 1708, 
married Sarah Smith, March 28, 1728 ; 
David, born Jan. 24, 1710, married 
Abigail, daughter of Deacon Daniel 
Chase, Jan. 27, 1732. She died Aug. 
29, 1753, aged 38. His second wife's 
maiden name was Mary Pillsbury ; she 
first married John Hills, in 1728, sec- 
ond, Enoch Hale, Feb. 1, 1750 ; Sa- 
rah, born Dec, 1711, married David 
Chase, Nov. 24, 1729 ; Dr. Anthony, 
born Sept. 5, 1713, married Abigail 
Leavitt, of Hampton, N. H., May 10, 
1738 ; Mehitabel, born Oct. 12, 1718, 
married Nathan Morss, Oct. 20, 1742 ; 
Judith, born Jan. 10, 1722, married 
Samuel Smith, Dec. 2, 1742; Mary, 



born Dec. 8, 1726, married William 
Smith, May 20, 1747. 

David, second son of John and Han- 
nah Emery, obtained a grant of land 
in the ''West Precinct" of Newbury, 
on the main road in the upper parish, 
and became one of the wealthiest citi- 
zens in that part of the town. His 
children, all by his first wife, Abigail 
Chase, were : David, born Jan. 23, 
1734, died Feb. 14, 1734 ; John, born 
Jan. 16, 1735, married Edna Noyes, 
April 7, 1756 ; Abigail, born June 2, 
1737, married Ephraim Boynton, Feb. 
19,1756; Hannah, born Feb., 1739, 
married Daniel Hills, May 15, 1757 ; 
Martha, born March 1, 1741, married 
Nathaniel Bailey, August 6, 1761 ; 
Sarah, born June 24, 1744, married 
Enoch No^-es, Oct, 30, 1765; Moses, 
born Jan. 13, 1748, married Sarah 
Hale, Sept. 27, 1770 — children, Abi- 
gail, John, Jacob, and Moses ; Thom- 
as, l)orn 1750, married Ruth March, 
Oct. 10, 1770, and died Nov. 21, 1770. 
His widow married John White, 3rd, 
May 7, 1772. 

David Emery and his second wife 
died from dysentery, a short time from 
each other. Their gravestones read : 

MARY, 

Wife of David Emkrt, 

Died Sept. 16, 1778, 

Aged 66. 

DAVID EMERY, 

Died Oct. 2'.)th, 1778, 

Aged 69 Y'^ears. 

John, son of David and Abigail 
(Chase) Emery, married Edna, daugh- 
ter of Capt. Ephraim Noyes, for his 
first wife. Edna (Noyes) Emery, a 
great-granddaughter of Mr. Nicholas 
Noyes, and great-grandneice of Rev. 
James Noyes, also descended from a 
noteworthy family on the maternal side, 



OP A IfOl!?^AGENAEIAIf. 



139 



her mother being Abigail, the second 
child of Jonas and Anna (Bailej^ 
Platts, and granddaughter of Dea. Jos- 
eph Bailey, of Bradford. 

Dea. Joseph Baile}' was the onl_y 
child of Richard Bailey, who came 
from Yorkshire, England, to America, 
when he was fifteen 3-ears old, with 
Richard Dummer, in the ship Bevis, 
150 tons, Robert Batten, master, in 
April, 1638. At that early age, young 
Bailc}' was noted for piety; and, dur- 
ing a violent storm on the voyage, he 
was called upon by the ship's company 
to praj' for their safety. He married 
Edna Holstead, and purchased an es- 
tate in Rowley. He was one of a com- 
pany to set up the first cloth mill in 
America, which was in Rowley, on the 
site of the present "Dummer's (Glen) 
Mills." Richard Bailey died in 1617 
or 1618. In 1619, Edna, the widow 
of Richard Bailey, married Ezekiel 
Northend, of Rowley, who probabh' 
took possession of the homestead, as 
it has been in the possession of the 
Northend family from that time. 

When Dea. Joseph Bailc}' obtained 
his lot, and built his house, the home- 
stead was included withiii the ancient 
precincts of Rowley, that part border- 
ing the river bearing the designation of 
"Merrimac Land." This was soon in- 
corporated as the town of Bradford, 
and in 1850 the east part of Bradford, 
in which his farm was situated, was set 
off as a separate town under the name of 
Groveland. Deacon Baile}' was one of 
the leading men of Bradford, in civil, 
military and ecclesiastical affairs. He 
was one of the selectmen twenty-three 
3'ears between 1675 and 1710, and one 
of the deacons from the formation of 
the church until his death, Oct. 11, 
1712. 



The Bailey arms are : 




OK, ON A FESS BETWEEN THREE MARTLETS GU, A 

BEZANT. CREST— A DEMILADT, HOLDING IN 

HER DEXTER HAND A TOWER, AND IN 

SINISTER A BRANCH OP LAUREL. 

The children of John and Edna 
(Noyes) Emer}- were : Ephraim, born 
Feb. 28, 1758 ; David, born April 20, 
1763; Hannah, who died in childhood. 
INIrs. Emery deceased soon after, and 
Mr. Emery married Betty .Smith, of 
Crane-neck hill. He lived but a short 
time after this union, and his widow 
married Col. Spofford, of New Row- 
ley. 

Ephraim, oldest son of John and 
Edna Emer}', married Mary, daughter 
of Peter Russell, of Bradford. Chil- 
dren : Mary, Thomas, Sohn and Han- 
nah. 

David Emery, the second son, born 
April 20, 1763, married Betty, onlj'- 
daughter of John and Ruth (Hale) 
Little. He died Oct. 21, 1785. Their 
sou, David, was born Dec. 22, 1785. 
The third 3'ear of her widowhood, Bett}' 
(Little) Emer}' married Moses Colman, 
of Byfield. 

Stephen, third sou of John, jr., and 
Mary (Webster) Emerj", born in 1666, 
married Ruth Jaques in 1692, and set- 
tled on a farm, on the " river road," in 
what is now the first parish in West 



140 



EEMINTSCEN^CES 



Newbuiy. Children : Anna, Sarah, 
Ruth, Mar}', Judith, Abigail, Elizabeth, 
Stephen, Hannah, Miriam, and Lydia. 

Lydia, born in 1717, married her 
kinsman, Moses Emer}-. Their chil- 
dren were : Lj'dia, Mary, John, Moses, 
Josiali, Nathan, Sarah, Anna, Amos, 
and Michael. 

Amos, born in 1757, married Anna 
Moody in 1781. Children: Hannah, 
Anna, Ebenezer, Lj'dia, Miriam, Mo- 
ses, Amos and Jacob Moody. 

A part of the farm is still the resi- 
dence of the widow and daughters of 
the late Jacob Moody Emery. A clock 
that had ticked in its corner at the 
homestead, for nearly one hundred and 
fifty years, has recently been taken to 
Portland, Maine, by a grandson of Amos 
Emer}-, Amos Emer}' Howell, where it 
has been rejunevated, looking even bet- 
etter than in its palmiest da^'s, over a 
century ago. 

Michael Emery was one of the first 
carriage builders of Amesbury. John 
Eraerj', senior, must have been a man 
of consideration and education, as we 
find his name bearing honorable men- 
tion, in the earliest annals of the set- 
tlement. February 1st, 1G38, the town 
ordered that ''John EuKny shall make a 
suflicient pound for the use of the 
towne, two rods and a halfe square, b}' 
the last of the present month if he cann." 
On the following 17th of May, An- 
thony Emer}" was fined ' ' twenty shil- 
lings for a pound breach, and to give 
thirteen shillings and fourpence to Thom- 
as Coleman for his charges." Dec. l<sth , 
1645, a committee of seven men was ap- 
pointed "■ at a publique meeting for to 
procure a water mill for to be built and 
set up in said towne (of Newbury), 
to grind theyr corne ." And they agreed 
to give John Emer}' and Samuel Scul- 



lard £20 in merchantable pay, to give 
them ten acres of upland, and six acres 
of meadow, and that the said mill is to 
" be free from all rates for the first sev- 
en 3ears, and to be a freehold to them 
and their heirs forever, they on their 
part agreeing to sett up said mill be- 
tween Nicholas Holt's point and Ed- 
ward Woodman's bridge, read}' for the 
town's use, to grind the town's grists, 
at or before the twenty-ninth of Sept. 
1646." 

This was the second grist mill estab- 
lished in Newbury — the first was erect- 
ed at " the falls," on the river Parker, 
by Messrs Dummer & Spencer, in ac- 
cordance with the grant from the Gen- 
eral Court, and an agreement with the 
town in 1C35. 

Ma}' 18th, 1647, the town, for three 
pounds, granted to John Emery " that 
parcell of land called the greene, about 
three akers, being more or lesse, bound- 
ed by the half-acre lots on the west, 
the hyeway on the south-east, and his 
own land on the north, being in a tri- 
angle, only the twenty rods is reserved 
in said land for a burying place as it 
is bounded with stakes M'itli a way to it 
from the east." 

This ])urying place is situated east of 
Oldtuwn hill, and is still called the 
"Emery lot." At a short distance 
may be seen the site of the first resi- 
dence of John Emery with the well 
near by. 

'"'j^tthe court in Salem, May 5th. 1663, 
John Emery was fined four pounds for 
entertaining Quakers. His offence con- 
sisted in granting food and lodging to 
two men and two women, who were 
travelling together farther east, 
i In George Bishop's "New England, 
judged," will be found this narration : ' 

" Edward and George Preston, and 



OP A nonagei^aeia:n-. 



141 



Maiy Tompkins and Alice Ambrose, 
alias Gaiy, passed eastward to visit the 
seed of God in those parts, and in their 
wa}' through Newbury, they went into 
the house of one John Emerj', (a friend- 
1}^ man), who with his wife seemed 
glad to receive them, at whose house 
they found freedom to stay all night, 
and when the next morning came the 
priest, Thomas Parker, and many of 
his followers came to the man's house, 
and much reasoning and dispute there 
was about truth ; but the priest's and 
many of the people's ears were shut 
against the truth. And in the time of 
their discourse, the wind striving in 
Mary Tompkin's stomach, making some 
noise, she having received no sustenance 
for the space of near forty-eight hours, 
one Joseph Pike, after they were depart- 
ed the town said 'she had a devil in her.' 
After a while the priest perceiving that 
the battle might be too hard for him, 
rose up, and took the man of the house 
and his wife out of doors with him. 
and began to deal with them for enter- 
taining such dangerous people. Thej- 
replied the^^ were required to entertain 
strangers. The priest said it was dan- 
gerous entertaining such as had plague 
sores upon them. Which the women 
hearing, began to take the priest to do 
for saying such false, wicked and ma- 
licious w^ords, but he hasted away. Ma- 
ry Tompkins called him to come back 
again, and not to show himself to be 
one of those hirehngs that flee and 
leave their flocks behind them, but he 
would not." 

It appears by the following, that John 
Emery was not completely over- awed 
In' the good but mistaken Parker : 

' 'The testimony of Henry Jaques aged 
a1:)0ut 44 years, saith, that I heard Jo- 
seph Noyes sa}', that after that time 
that the Quakers had their meeting at 
John Emery's, that he saw two Qua- 
kers at John Emery's house, and 
John Emery bade them welcome, and 
further saith that I heard Joseph Noyes 
sa}', that John Emer^- had entertained 
Quakers, both to bed and table, after 
the time the}- had their meeting at J ohn 



Emery's house, and this he testified be- 
fore the church at Newbury, and farth- 
er I do testify that I heard John Em- 
ery and his wife sa}' that he had enter- 
tained Quakers and that he would not 
put them from his house, and used ar- 
gument for the lawfulness of it. 

Henry Jaques. 

Sworn in Court, May 7, 1663, 

Before Robert Lord, Clerk." 

[This Henry Jaques was a constable 
of Newbury.] 

"The Deposition of Joseph Noyes, 
aged 26 3'ears : 

This Deponent saith yt as he was 
agoing to Goodman Ilmerie's sen., he 
overtook two women Quakers, and sup- 
posing they w^ould call at ye house of 
ye forementioned EmuKay, he desired 
him not to entertain ym. But whilst 
he was in discourse, they came into 3'e 
house, and staid until he went aw-a}-. 
Goodman Emmery was in ye chamber, 
(as he knows, ' because he ym upon 
an occasion called out to his wife) 
his wafe being in ye same room with ye 
Quakers, at his house wn Mr. Parker 
was yr. Farther he had understood by 
those yt wr eye-witnesses, yt two men 
Quakers wr yr entertained very kindl^^ 
to bed and table, & John Emmerie 
shook ym b^' ye hand and bid ym wel- 
come. Ye substance of 3's he or his 
wife in his presence told him and 
owned it, (according to his best remem- 
brance) more yn once. This also ws 
severl days after ye meeting above 
said. 

Taken upon Oath 24, 4th, 67, 
before me, Simon Bradstreet." 

At this period one can scarcely de- 
pict the commotion such an incident 
must have caused in the secluded and 
quiet settlement of Quascacunquen, on 
the banks of the winding Parker, or 
appreciate the courage evinced by John 
Emery and his wife in thus rising above 
popular prejudice, and fanatical bigotry 
and intolerance. 

The Quaker guests, Mary Tom^jkins 
and Alice Ambrose, came from Eng- 



142 



REIklENTSCENCES 



land to Boston, with George Preston in 
1662. These women in company with 
a third, Anna Cohnan, on their visit to 
the "seed of God" in New Hampsliire, 
aronsed the indignation of the authori- 
ties, and Capt. Richard Waldron of 
Dover was impowered to act in the ex- 
ecution of the laws against ' ' the wick- 
ed errors of Quakers," upon which he 
issued the following proclamation : 

"To the Constables of Dover, Hamp- 
ton, vSalisbury, Newbury, Rowley, Ips- 
wich, Windham, Lynn, Boston, Rox- 
bury, Dcdham, and until these vaga- 
bond Quakers are out of our jurisdic- 
tion." 

' ' You and every one of you are re- 
quired in the King's Majesty's name to 
take these vagabond Quakers, Anna 
Colman, Mary Tompkins, and Alice 
Ambrose, that the}' be stripped naked 
from the middle upwards, and make 
them fast to the cart's tail, and drav.ing 
the cart through the several townsj to 
whip them upon their naked liacks not 
exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of 
them in each town, and so convey them 
from constable to constable till they 
are out of this jurisdiction, as you will 
answer it at your peril and this shall be 
your warrent. 

Per me, 
Richard Waldkon," 

Dover, Dec. 22, 1G62. 

This order was executed in Dover, 
Hampton, and Salisbury ; but through 
the intervention of Walter Barefoot, 
Deput}' Governor of New Hampshire, 
Newbury escaped the disgrace of such 
an act of cruelty. On pretence of de- 
livering the persecuted females to the 
constables of Newbury, Gov. Barefoot 
took them from the New Hampshire 
constables, and secured them from fur- 
ther molestation by sending them out 
of the Province. 

In October, 1657, the General Court 
had ordered that the penalty for enter- 



taining Quakers should be forty shil- 
lings. In 1659, Thomas Macy, one of 
the first settlers of Newbury, but at 
that time a resident of Salisbury, was 
summoned to appear before the Gener- 
al Court, for violating the above law. 
Instead of complying, he sent a letter 
of which the following is a copy : 

"This is to entreat the honored court 
not to be offended because of my non- 
appearance. It is not from slighting 
tile authority of this honored court, nor 
from feare to answer the case ; but I 
have bin for some weeks past, very ill, 
and am so at present, and notwithstand- 
ing mj" illness, yet I, desirous to ap- 
pear, have done ra}^ utmost endeavor 
to hire a horse, but I cannot procure 
one at present ; I being at present des- 
titute have endeavored to purchase, but 
at present cannot attaine it, but I shall 
relate the truth of the case as mj' an- 
swer should be to ye honored court, 
and more cannot be proved, nor so 
much. On a rainy morning there came 
to my house Edward Wharton and 
three men moi-e ; the said Wharton 
spoke to me saying that the}^ were trav- 
elling eastward, and desired me to di- 
rect tiiem in the way to Hampton, and 
asked me how far it was to Casco bay. 
I never saw any of ye men afore except 
Wharton, neither did I require their 
names, or who they were, but by tlieir 
carriage I thought they might be qua- 
kers, and told them so, and therefore 
desired them to pass on their waj', say- 
ing to them I might possibly- give of- 
fence in entertaining them ; as soon as 
the violence of the rain ceased (for it 
rained very hard) , they went away, and 
I never saw them since. The time 
that they were in the house was about 
three-quarters of an hour, but I can 
safely attirme it was not an houre. 
The}- spake not many words in the time, 
neither was I at leisure to talke with 
them, for I came home wet to ye skin 
immediatelj' afore they came to the 
house, and I found my wife sick in bed. 
If this satisfie not the honored court, I 
shall subject to theii- sentence ; I have 



I 



OP A :n^on'agen^aeian. 



143 



not willingly otlended, I am ready to 
serve and obey you in the Lord. 

Tho. Macy." 

Notwithstanding this explanation and 
apology, Mr. Macy was fined thirty 
shillings, and was ordered to be admon- 
ished by the governor. Tradition in- 
forms us that Thomas Macy, immedi- 
ately after his sentence, with his family 
repaired to Nantucket in an open boat, 
being one of the first P^nglish settlers 
on that island, where he passed the re- 
mainder of his life. This incident, 
Whittier has woven into one of his 
most charming ballads. 

Two of the Quakers who received 
shelter in Thomas Macy's house, Wil- 
liam Robinson and Marmaduke Ste- 
phenson, were hung at Boston, Decem- 
ber 27, 1659. 

There is more "truth than poetry" 
in Ja3''s '• Innocency's Complaint," 
where he writes, "The making laws 
for to ensnare the just of God, is hated 
and to be accurst. The Massachusetts 
is alike for crime unto Judea in Christ 
Jesus' time. Here laws are extant 
that doth terrify well-meaning men and 
Liberty deny. Here innocents are 
fined, whipt and branded, ears cropped, 
some sold for slaves, some lashed, some 
hanged. Whoever is contrary to them 
found, tho' in his spirit, their fine must 
be five pounds, or else three days in 
jail ere a discharge, and with a ten- 
lashed whipping be enlarged." 

The following, respecting the enter- 
tainment of Dr. Henry Greenland, 
Newbur3''s earliest physician, has been 
found among the Massachusetts ar- 
chives : 

Cop3' of the Petition of John Emery, 
sen., of Newbury to the Massachusetts 
General Court, in relation to his fine 
for "Entertaining Strangers," 1663. 



May 21, 1663. 

To the honord Generall Court now 
assembled at Boston — the Humble pe- 
tition of John Emery humbl_y showethe 
That your Petitioner dwelling in New- 
bury, It so fell out by Providence of 
God that a certain Gentleman (named 
Mr. Henry Greenland) coming from 
England upon his occasion was by rea- 
son of his acquaintance with Capt. 
Barefoot &c. inclinable to settle in je 
Country if hee liked, and to make use 
of his practise of Physic and Chirur- 
gery amongst us ; But being as yet un- 
settled & oncertanie where to fix untill 
his wife (whom hee hath sent for) did 
come By Reason of some employment 
by ye Providence of God presented it- 
self to him ; hee was necissarily put 
upon it to reside neer such Patients 
as had put themselves into his hands 
for Cure : Among which one being 
more than ordhiarily disordered Hee 
Desired entertainment. And 3'our Pe- 
titioner did for Reason above men- 
tioned Receive and entertain him this 
winter past for which I am fined four 
Pounds by ye hon'rd Conrt at Ipswich 
for Breach of a Law ; not having [at 
first] License under the hand of a mag- 
istrate : hee himselfe being a stranger 
and not knowing the Law, nor your Pe- 
titioner — the Humble request of your 
Petitioner is ; That this honobl Court 
would bee Pleased to remit ye saide 
fine (it being not done in Contempt 
but only as necessarily occasioned as 
above sd.) wherein ye Gentleman hath 
b}' God's blessing been farthered & 
been of much good b}' his calling ; Both 
in Physick and C-hirurgery and 3'our 
pore Petitioner shall ever Pra}'. 

We the Selectmen & such others as 
are subscribed. Considering the useful- 
ness of Mr. Greenlands in respect 6f 
his practice in our towne, do humbly 
desire the same if this hon'd court 
please. 



Jf'hn Pike, 
Richard Thurlo, 

Thomas 
Peter Gorlrie, 
James Ordvvajv 
Lionel Wortli, . 



Abraham Toppan, 
John Bayley, 

Sam Pore, 
Edvv. Richardson, 
Robere Coker, 
Richard Fits, 



144 



IlEMrN'ISCE:N'CES 



John Cheney, Jnn., 

Robert 

John Wilcutt, 

Robt Adams, 

Lanslet Granger, 

Will 

Anthony Short, 

John Knight, 

John 

Rich 

Brown, 
Peter Toppan, 
Jeremy Gutiidge, 
William 

Stephen 

Saml 

Thomas Hale, Jan., 

John Poore, Senor. 



Stephen Swett, 
Anthony Morse, sen., 

Willi 

Richard Loell, 
Anhony Siimerbee, 
John Mearell, 

Abell Huse, 
John Cheney, sen'r, 
James Jaclcinau, 
Joseph Piumer 
John Parknr, Senior, 
John Jnn., 

'J liomas Brown, 
William Titcomb, 
Richard Bartlet, 
Thomas 
Wilum Morse, 
Josif Tainey, 

2, 3, 63. The Magts have consid- 
ered the grounds of this Petr ; & con- 
sent not to any reversion of the coun. 
Court's sentence. 

Tho. Danforth, p. E. R. S. 
Consented to by ye depety provided 
they may have ye ten shillings agayne. 
William Torrey, Clerk. 
The Magists Consentyes, 

Edw : Rawson, Secry." 

This ancient document being much 
worn, some of the names are in part, 
or wholly illegible. 

In 1GG9, the ecclesiastical difficulties 
by which the town had been for some 
time agitated, arose to such a height, 
that an appeal to the civil authority 
was considered necessary. The cause 
of this disturbance was a change of 
sentiment, which Messrs. Parker and 
Noyes manifested respecting church 
government and discipline. 

Johnson, in his "Wonder-working 
Providence " sa^-s : "The teaching eld- 
ers of Newbury have carried it very 
lovingly toward their people, permit- 
ting them to assist in admitting of per- 
sons into the church society, and in 
church censure, so long as they act reg- 
ularly, but in case of maladministration 
they assume the power wholly to them- 
selves." 



Johnson very well expressed the 
principles of church discipline held by 
Messrs. Parker and Noyes, principles 
which engendered a controversy that 
was not settled until a short time prior 
to Mr. Parker's death in 1677. A ma- 
jority of the church demanded as a 
right, what the pastor and teacher 
"lovingly permitted" as a favor, and 
believing that the church in its corpo- 
rate capacity' had a right, and therefore 
were under a sacred obligation to man- 
age its own affairs, they contended 
most strenuously against their elders 
assuming the powers wholly to them- 
selves. 

October 22d, 1656, "Mr. Noise, the 
blessed light of Newbury, died." Of 
his uncle, the Rev. Nicholas Noyes thus 
writes : ' ' They who differed from him 
in smaller matters as to discipline, held 
a most amicable correspondence with 
him." During Mr. Noyes' lifetime, 
there was no serious difficulty in the 
church. After the return of Mr. John 
Woodbridge from England in 1663, he 
was employed b}" the town to assist his 
uncle Parker in preaching, at a salaiy 
of sixty pounds per annum, until 1670, 
when the town agreed to dispense with 
his services. From 1665 to 1669, the 
church and town were in a most excited 
and uncouciliatory state, being about 
equally divided, one party adhering to 
Mr. Parker, while the opposition were 
led by Mr. Edward Woodman, a man 
of talents, influence, firmness, and de- 
cision, and from him were stj'led Mr. 
Woodman's part}'. This gentleman af- 
firmed "that Mr. Parker would set up 
a prelacy, and have more power than 
the pope, for the pope had his council 
of cardinals." Both John Emery, sen., 
and his son, John Emery, jr., joined 
Mr. Woodman's party. The following 



OF A N'ON'AGEN'AEIAl^. 



145 



is exti-acted from the records of the 
court at Salem : — 

"I, John Pike, do testifie that I was 
present at the gathering of the church 
at Newl)ur_y, and I did hear our rever- 
and pastor preach a sermon on the 
eighteenth of Matthew, seventeerith 
verse, ' and if he neglect to hear them, 
tell it unto the church ; but if he neg- 
lect to hear the church, let him be unto 
thee as an heathen man and a publican,' 
wherein he did hould forMi that the 
power of discipline belonged to the 
whole church, yt the matter of the 
church ought to be visible saints joyned 
or gathered together, that the manner 
of their joyning together ought to be 
by covenant, yt the end of it is for the 
exercisinge and enjoyinge of the ordin- 
ances of Christ togeather. He strongly 
proved his doctrine by many places of 
the Scripture, both in the old and new 
testament. The which sermon togeath- 
er with the Scriptures did much instruct 
and conflrme us in that waye of church 
discipline which as I understood he 
then preached for, namely the congre- 
gational waye, some noates of the said 
sermon, 'svhich I then took from his 
mouth, I have here ready to shew if 
vou please. The sermon being ended 
the brethren joyned together by express 
^covenant, and being joyned they chose 
their pastor Mr. Parker, who accepted 
the call, and joyned with them accord- 
ing to the covenant aforesaid ; and 
those that afterward joyned to the 
church, consented to the said covenant 
explicit. The brethren of the church 
acted in these admissions of ye members, 
expressinge their voats therein by hft- 
ing up tile hande, and soe continued 
together lovingly a considerable num- 
ber of yeares untill other doctrine be- 
gan to be preached amongst us. 

Per me, John Pike. 
Sworne in court 30 March, 1669." 

"Robert Pike also testifies that the 
meeting was on the Sabbath in the 
open air under a tree." 

"At the same time that Mr. Parker 
•was chosen pastor, Mr. James Noyes 
was chosen teacher." 



Similar testimonies were give by John 
Emery and Thomas Browne. 

Tradition asserts that the tree under 
which this first sermon was preached 
was a majestic oak, which stood on the 
north bank of the river Parker, about 
a hundred yards below the present 
bridge. 

After a series of trials and appeals, 
and a council of the neighboring elders 
and churches, which was convened 
A^ov. 3d, 1669, the controvers}' was fi- 
nally settled at the court at Ipswich, 
May 29th, 1671, "which adjudged the 
said Mr. Woodinan, and party adhering 
to him, to pay the several fines under- 
written, with the charge of the witnes- 
ses, and fees of court, and that they all 
stand committed till the said fines, 
charges and fees be satisfied and paid. 

Mr. Edward Woodman, twenty no- 
bles ; Mr. Richard Dummer, Richard 
Thorlay, Stephen Greenleaf, Richard 
Bartlet, and William Titcomb, four no- 
bles each ; Francis Plumer, John Em- 
ery, sen., John Emery, jun., John 
Merrill, and Thomas Browne, a mark 
each ; Nicholas Batt, Anthony Morse, 
senior, Abraham Toppan, William Saw- 
yer, Edward Woodman, junior, John 
Webster, Jolni Bartlet, senioi', John 
Bartlett, junior, Joseph Plumer, Ed- 
ward Richardson, Thomas Hale, junior, 
Edmund Moores, Benjamin Lowle, Job 
Pilsbury, John Wells, William Ilsley, 
James Ordwa3', Francis Thorlay, Abra- 
ham Merrill, John Bailey, Benjamin 
Rolfe, Steven Swett, and Samuel Plum- 
er, a noble each ; Robert Coker and 
William Mood}' were not fined." 

A noble is six shillings and eight- 
pence ; a mark, thirteen shillings and 
fourpence. 

The following are the names of Mr. 
Parker's party : 
19 



146 



EEMEN^ISCEN'CES 



Mr. John Woodl)ridge, Capt. Paul 
White, Mr. Henry Sewall, Richard 
Kent, John Kent, Henry Short, Daniel 
Price, senior, Richard Knight, John 
Kelley, John Knight, Henry Jaques, 
Thomas Hale, senior, Robert Adams, 
Abel Hnse, George Little, Samnel 
Moody. William Chandler, Mr. Nicho- 
las Noyes, Nicholas Wallingtou, Capt. 
William Gerrish, Mr. Percival Lowle, 
James Kent, Robert Long, Richard 
Pettingell, WiUiam Morse, John Davis, 
John Smith, James Smith, James Jack- 
man, Joseph Muzzey, Richard Dole, 
Anthony Somerby, Nathaniel Clark. 
Tristram Coffin, Nicholas No.yes, senior, 
Thomas Tarvill, Mr. John Gerrish. 

Though during this controversy, 
George Little adhered to his pastor, in 
company -s^ith Philip Squire, Nathaniel 
Cheney, WiUiam Sayer and wife, Ben- 
jamin Morse and wife, Mr. Edward 
Woodman and wife, John Sayer and 
Abel Merrill, he joined the Baptist 
church at Boston, and in 1G82 that 
church assented to the formation of a 
Baptist church in Newbury. This 
church never gained many converts, 
and it was too few in numbers to long- 
maintain a separate existence. 

In 1654, ''John Emer}' was chosen 
to answer at the next court at Ipswich, 
concerning the presentment about the 
way to Andover." 

April 10, 1644. "There was laid out 
to John Emery, jun., four-score akers 
of upland, bee it more or lesse joining 
unto Merrimacke river on the north, 
and running from the mouth of Arti- 
choke river, unto a marked tree by a 
swampe on the north-west corner, being 
about one hundred and thirty-two rods 
long at the head of the cove, thence 
about a hundred rods to the south- 
east corner, thence running a strait 



l3'ne about a hundred and fifty-six 
rods to Artichoke river on the east 
about eighty rods broad." 

March 3, 1679, the town granted to 
Sergeant John Emer}- twelve acres of 
land on the west side of Artichoke riv- 
er, ' ' provided he build and maintain a 
corn mill, to grind the town's corn from 
time to time, and to build it within one 
year and a half after the date hereof," 
and so fortfi. This farm is still owned 
by the descendants of .John Emery, jr. 
John I^mery, senior, passed the latter 
part of his life there ; he died Nov. 3, 
1683, aged 85. 

A portion of the estate of David 
Emery, above, on the main road, is 
still in the possession of his descend- 
ants, and there is a wood lot owned 
in my family which was purchased with 
money inherited from that ancestor. 

Jonathan Emery, the youngest son 
of John Emery, senior, fought through 
King Philip's war, with the renowned 
''Flower of Essex." He belonged to 
Major Appleton's company, which was 
considered the crack company of the 
Small army. In the archives at the 
State-house, Boston, is the original mus- 
ter-roll of the company-, and it is there 
recorded : •' Jonathan Emery, wounded 
in the neck." This wound, from an 
Indian arrow, was received at the cap- 
ture of the fort in Narraganset, Dec. 
19, 1675. 

This was a terrible battle, the most 
sanguinary of the campaign. The In- 
dians had built a fort in the Narragan- 
set country. Within a strong palisade 
of timber were nearly five hinidred wig- 
wams, sheltering nearly five thousand 
persons, with great store of provisions. 
The cold was intense, and the air filled 
with a frosty rime, as our brave little 
army drew near to the great swamp. 



OF A NOXAGEXAEIAIf. 



147 



Around the fated hamlet, outside the 
paHsade, was a high Ijarricade of felled 
trees, almost or quite impossible to 
climh, and a nearly impenetrable thick- 
et of swamp wood ; surrounding these 
defences was a broad moat filled with 
water, which could onl}- be crossed by 
passing over a large tree placed by the 
Indians for a liridge. At about one 
o'clock p. m. our bold men began the 
attack. Though they were obliged to 
pass over that tree trunk single fde, in 
the face of a terrible fire from the ene- 
my, which sent many a man instantly 
to his death, they persisted, again and 
again. Six of our captains were killed 
and a proportionate number of men, 
before a few of the brave soldiers ef- 
fected an entrance into the five-acre 
enclosure of the Indians. Here the 
slaughter was hand to hand, with horri- 
ble odds against the invaders. Never- 
the-less, they won the day. The cry 
that the Indians were flying rallied our 
men outside, who had recoiled some- 
what from the death-line of the tree. 
The Indians were left dead in heaps 
'•' upon 5'e snow." The wigwams were 
soon in flames, and several hundred of 
the hapless children of the forest per- 
ished in the fire ; other hundreds 
were taken prisoners, while the great 
Philip barely escaped. Our army lost 
about eighty killed and nearly one hun- 
dred and fifty wounded. The total loss 
of the Indians Avas computed at aliout 
a thousand. After this fearful combat 
our people marched seventeen or eigh- 
teen miles "in a most horrid and bois- 
terous night," before the wounded 
could be cared for. Several of our 
dead were left in the burning ruins of 
the fort. The sufferings " of the Eng- 
lish after this fight have hardly a paral- 
lel in histor}'." What, then, must have 




been the sufferings of the Indians? 
The English lions won their victory, at 
great cost of pain and blood, over the 
Indian tigers. 

Jonathan Emery after 
his return from the war 
used this seal, which he 
probably had engraved 
to commemorate his 
deeds and sufferings. The Lion repre- 
senting the bold Briton inspiring terror, 
the arrow seized by the rampant beast, 
the emblem of Indian warfare, which 
from its position indicates the Lion's 
victory. The decendants of John jr. 
and Jonathan Emery have become 
widely scattered. Many have been, 
and are still counted amongst the prom- 
inent men and women of the country. 
The name has been, and still is, well 
represented, amongst the clergy, at the 
bar, in the medical profession, in the 
military, literary and mercantile walks 
of life. Some of the family have ex- 
celled in mechanics, and in an unusual 
degree as a race, they possess the tal- 
ent of a "ready writer." 

The spirit of emigration decended 
from the sires. Several of the family 
pressing into the wilderness, founded, 
what are now flourishing towns. Mo- 
ses Emery, a great grandson of John 
Emery jr. was the first settler at Minot, 
Maine. Edward Emery, seventh son 
of Jonathan Emery, married a Miss 
Sarah Sibley and settled at Contoocook 
(now Boscawen, N. H,) in 1734 or 
thereabouts. In 1740 he was one of a 
committee there to secure a minister 
for the plantation. He was killed by 
the Indians while hunting beaver at 
Newfound Lake, in 1756. Ezekiel 
Flanders his companion was also slain 
by the savages. Anthony Emery, third 
son of John and Haunah Emery, grad- 



148 



REMIXISCEJ^CES 



uated from Harvard College in 173G. 
He "was surgeon in the English army at 
the capture of Louishurg. and was the 
first physician at Chelmsford, Mass., 
then at Hampton N. H., where he died, 
Aug. I'Jth, 1781, aged 67. Dr. Emery 
was one of the proprietors of Andover 
N. H., which for some time bore the 
designation of "Emery Town." His 
son William .settled on his father's land, 
being the third settler in the town. His 
son. Captain Anthon}' Emer}' succeeded 
on the paternal acres, where he was 
distinguished as a sheep-grower. He 
kept more sheep, sold more mutton, and 
procured the manufacture of more of 
the old-fashioned coverlets, than any 
three men in his county. 

Rev. Samuel Emery, born in New- 
bury Dec. 20th, 1()7U, graduated at 
Harvard in 1691, and was ordained in 
AVells, Me., the 2t)th of October 1701, 
he died Dec. 18th, 1724. 

Rev. Stephen Emery was born in 
Newbur}', graduated at Harvard in 
1730 ; was soon after settled over the 
society in Xottingham, N. II. 

Thomas Emery, son of David Emer^-, 
sen., graduated at Harvard in 17G8, 
and studied medicine ; he died 2\ov. 
21st, 1772. aged 22, leaving one son. 
Thomas P^mery, who married first a 
daughter of the Rev. Moses Hale of 
the lower parish, by whom he had three 
sons, Flavins, Charles and Moses ; 
his second wife was INIargaret, widov,- of 
Joseph Cotfin, of Okltown. 

Rev. Samuel M. Emery, son of 
Moody and Abigail Emeiy, of New- 
bur}-, now West Newbury, born April 
10th, 1804, graduated at Harvard in 
1830, received the Master's degree at 
Trinity college, Hartford, Conn., and 
several ^ears after the honorary degree 
of D. D., from the same. He was or- 



dained Deacon in Trinity church, Bos- 
ton, in July, 1835, and soon afterwards 
reeeiven a call to Trinity- church, Port- 
land, Conn., where he was ordained 
priest. He remained rector of that 
parish until August, 1870, — nearl}' 
thirt3'-five years. Since then he has 
retired from the active duties of the 
ministry. He married Mary Hale, only 
child of Eliphalet Emer}', Esq. of the 
Artichoke river farm, and grand- 
daughter of the Rev. Closes Hale. 

Rev. Samuel Hopkins Emery, born 
Aug. 2 2d, 1815 ; graduated at Amherst 
in 1834 ; at Andover Theological Sem- 
inar}- in 1837 ; was ordained at Taun- 
ton, Mass., Nov. 23d, 1837 ; pastor at 
Quinc}-, 111., and Bedford, Mass. ; 
stated supply at Chicago, i'rovidence, 
Bridgeport, Ct.. and North Middle- 
borough, JMass. ; now city missioi:ary, 
and minister of Cedar street chapel, 
Taunton, Mass. ; married, March 7th, 
1838, Julia Reed of Taunton. 

Rev. Joshua Emeiy, born in New- 
buryport Aug. 1807, graduated at Am- 
herst in 1831 ; at Andover Theological 
Seminary in 1834 ; was ordained pastor 
of Calvanistic Congregational Church, 
Fitchburg Mass., May 13th 1835; was 
called to First Church (old North) Wc}'- 
mouth, Mass., Dec. 1837, and install- 
ed pastor Jan. 25th, 1838 ; retired from 
active service in 1873. He marred 
Ma}" 10th, 1835, Hariet, daughter of 
Jacob Teabody, of Salem, Mass. 

Horace Brown, son of Haj'den and 
IIariet(Emer3')Brown, and grandson of 
Moses Emery, born in West Newbury 
Aug. 31st, 1851, was fitted for college 
at riiillip's Academy, Exeter and grad- 
uated at Harvard in 1872, and the 
Harvard Law School, in 1874. He 
began the practice of his profession in 
the office of Ives & Eincoln, Salem, 



OF A NO^T'AGEXAKTA^. 



149 



Mass., July 7tb, 1874 ; wa^ admitted to 
the United States Supreme Court Jan. 
1878 ; was elected to the State Legis- 
lature, to represent the cit}- of Salem, 
Nov. 5th, I;-" 78 ; is a member of the 
Essex Institute, and of the American 
Association for the Advancement of 
Science. 

Samuel E. Emery D. D. S., son of 
Rev. Samuel M. Emery, D. D., was 
born at Portland, Conn., April 10th 
1852. Graduated at the Boston Den- 
tal College 1876. A practising dentist 
in Newburyport. 

Flavins Emerj', son of Thomas and 
Elizabeth (Hale) Emmery, married Eliz- 
abeth Emery, daughter of Ivlood}' and 
Abigail Emery, of West Newbury. 
Nov. 1 1826. Their son, Rufus Emery, 
born July 25th, 1827 ; graduated at 
Trinity college, Hartford, Conn., in 

1854 ; was tutor in the Institution from 

1855 to 1857. He graduated at the 
Berkley Divinitj' school in Middle town. 
Conn., in 1858; took charge of the 
church in South^ort, Conn., where, 
Aug. 5th, he was ordained priest, re- 
maining over the society about twelve 
vears. He married Adelaide, daughter 
of Erastus and Mary W. Brainerd, of 
Portland,' Conn., Nov. 17th, 1858. 
Having resigned the parish of Trinity 
church, Southport, he ofliciated some 
two years in Calvary Church, Stonijig- 
ton, Conn., when he accepted a call to 
the rectorship of St. Paul's Church 
Newburg, N. Y. 

Emery is both an ancient and an 
historic name. In the -'Doom's Day 
Book," 1086, those of the Norman 
French family D'Amer^', who fol- 
lowed the Conqueror to England, are 
recorded as landed proprietors in Ox- 
ford and Devon, in the mediceval Latin 
as Haimericus. At present the Emery s 



of England, as a rule, use the ortho- 
graphic form, most prevalent in the 
United States, though some as here, 
prefer Amer}' or Amory. From the 
old records, it is seen that the first set- 
tlers here, as was then common, spelled 
the name in a variety of waj's. John 
Emer}' of Romse}', in old age, spelled 
his name Emeny, but his will, now on 
file among the Essex county, Massa- 
chusetts court papers, exhiljits his sig- 
nature as John Emry. The name is 
not rare in France ; there its 
usual forms are Amory, Em- 
/Si \ erv, and D'Emery. The 
^ JN\j name does not appear in 

1 I France previous to the Nor- 

2 M man invasion of Gaul. It 
>> S^ was brought with the fierce 
= j^ followers of Rollo, gathered 
5 ^ from Norway', Sweden, Den- 
^ \V mark, and some of the North 
■^ \A I Geiman provinces, who in 
M «^ lh<^ early part of the tenth 
s ^ century invaded the beauti- 

^ir>5X ful land of Neustra, and 

Vv wrested it from Charles the 

■■^^ Simple, changing the name 

to Normandy. It has been claimed 
that the practice of giving '-'Sir" names 
originated in Normandy, and Avas 
transported to Great Britain at the 
time of the conquest. The name 
Emery, or its equivalent, however, 
appears in luu-ope as early as the 
fourth century, where it is found in 
Switzerland, Spain and Italy, and it is 
well known in Germany, Emmerich, 
an ancient fortified town of Germany, 
derived its name from Count Embric 
or Emeric. 

Anderson (Sir Names) Edinburgh, 
18()5, says, "From Amalarich (exalted 
ruler)— Gothic — has come descended in 
regular transformation, Amalric, Alma- 



150 



EEMINISCEXCES 



ric, Amaiirv. AimeiT, Ermenvieh, and 
Emerich, the English names Amoiy, 
Danieiy, Darner and Emery." 

Thongh of historic interest, it is not 
generally known that this western con- 
tinent, in a slightly modified form l)ears 
the name under notice. Colnmbus nev- 
er doubted that the lands he had dis- 
covered were parts of the East Indies 
or Asia ; but, after extended exploi'a- 
tion, Americus Vespucins (or Amerigo 
Vespucci, as his name appears in Ital- 
ian) l.iecame assured that they were no 
other than a second or western conti- 
nent. His written accounts of the cli- 
mate, people and productions, obtained 
a corroboration of this idea among the 
inhabitants of the old world. The hon- 
or of having his name applied to the 
extent of the mainland of South Amer- 
ica, by him ^nsited and described, was 
not sought by the daring Florentine. 
The suggestion of his name came fiom 
Matthias Ringman, the poet, and a few 
friends, students at the College of St. 
Die in Lorraine, among the Vosges 
mountains, in a corner of France. In 
1507 they put forth a little work entitled 
" Cosmographiixi Introductis," in which 
the suggestion was made that the New 
World should be named America, after 
a man, inasmuch as Europe and Asia 
had been named after women. The 
suggestion was adopted, and America 
finally became the name of the whole 
western continent. Thus was Ameri- 
cus Vespucius honored in the use of 
that part of his name which then had 
been known for more than ten centu- 
ries. 

Dixon, in his " Sir Names," says : 

'' Emmery (F), Armanarciks (Go :). 
' Most exalted or universal ruler.' The 
Gothic name became changed to Arina- 
narich, Ermanarich, Ermenrich, Em- 



menrich, etc. ; and from it were prob- 
ably derived the English Sir names, 
Emerich, Emeryke, and sometimes F^m- 
ery. The forename of the Itahan Ves- 
pucci was also a corruption of the name 
of a king of the Goths in the fourth 
century." 

Americus is not properl}' a corrup- 
tion of the original Gothic, but rather 
its legitimate Latinized form. Another 
author (M. A. Lowe, Patronymica 
Britannica) writes : 

' ' From the personal name Emeric or 
Almericus, equivalent to the Itahau 
Amerigo, Latinized Americus, whence 
the name of the great western conti- 
nent. It seems to have undergone the 
following changes : Emeric, Emery, 
Amery, Amary, Ammary, and, in the 
Domesday Book, Haimericus. It is 
asserted "that the family of D' Amery 
came to England with the Conqueror, 
from Tours." 

The following statement appears in 
"English Sir-Names : their Source and 
Signification," by Charles W. Bailey, 
A. M., London, 1875 : 

" Emery, though now utterly forgot- 
ten as a personal name, may be said to 
live only in our Sir names. It was 
once no unimportant soluiquet. Ame- 
ric, Almeric, Emeric, and Eimeric, seem 
to have been original spellings in Eng- 
land, and thus, at least, it is more like- 
ly to remind us that it is the same name 
to which, in the Italian form of Ameri- 
go, we owe the title of that vast ex- 
panse of Western territory which is so 
indissolubly connected with English in- 
dustry and EngUsh interests." 

While it is true that Emery is not 
now used as a personal or given name 
in England, it is frequently so used in 
the t^astern States of America. All 
things considered, the name in question 
may fairly claim to rank amongst the 
most remarkable in the whole range of 
personal nomenclature. 



or A NOXAGE^STAIITAX. 



151 



The arms of Ameiy, or Einer3% are : 




AKGENT, THREE BAI'.S NEBULKE, GULES: IN CIIIUP, AS 

3IANY TORTEAUX. CREST —OUT OF A MURAL 

CROWN, A DEMI-HOKSE ARGENT, MANED 

OR, COLLARED GULES, STUDDED 

OF THE riRST. 

THE LEGEND, " PIDELIS ET SAUVIS." 

Shatswell, Shotswell, Satchwell, or 
Satchell. John, Ipswich, 1G33 ; died 
in 1G47. His will was proved March 
30. It names wife Joanna, son Rich- 
ard, brotlier Theophilus, brother Cur- 
win, and sister Mar}' Webster, widow 
of John. The widow Mary (Shats- 
vvell) Webster, with her children, John, 
Thomas, Stephen, Israel, Nathan, jNIa- 
ry, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Abigail, 
removed to Newbury about 1G42. On 
October 29, 1G50, she married John 
Emery. She died August 28, 1G94. 
John Emer}- was very fond of his step- 
children, and the}' reciprocated the af- 
fection. Israel and Nathan, the one 
eighteen and the other fifteen 3'ears of 
age, with their mother, soon after her 
marriage, petitioned the General Court 
to consent to their choosing their fath- 
er-in-law, John Emery, senior, and 
brother, John Emery, jr., as their 
guardians. All of the Websters were 
remembered in Mr. Emery's will, where 
they are st^'led "his dear children." 



Hannah Webster married Thomas Em- 
erson ; her daughter Hannah Emerson, 
married Thomas Dustan. and became 
the famous Indian slayer, to whose 
memory a monument has been erected 
in Haverhill. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Thomas Colman, born in 1602, 
came from Marlboro, Wiltshire, Eng- 
land, to Newbury, in the part}' who 
landed with Messrs. Parker and Noyes. 
His first wife Susanna, died the 17th of 
Nov. iGoO. The same year he re- 
moved to Hampton, and married Mary, 
widow of Edmund Johnson, Jul}' llth, 
1G51, who died in Hampton Jan. 30th, 
1663. His third wife was Mai'gery 
. After IGSO he moved to Nan- 
tucket, where he died in 1G85, aged 83. 
His children were Benjamin, Joseph, 
Isaac, Joaima, John and Tobias. To- 
bias, the last child of his third wife, 
was the ancestor of the Byfield family. 
Deacon Benjamin Colman, born in 
1724, married first, Ann Brown, from 
the Brown's Spring Farm on the main 
road. This lady was a decendant of 



John Brown of Turkey Hill, whose 
dwelling was attacked by the Indians 
in 1095. Their children were John, 
Dudley, Thomas, Samuel, Benjamin, 
Moses, Caleb, WiUiam and Mary. 
Deacon Colman's second wife, was 
widow Sarah Stickney, whom he mar- 
ried Oct. 27th, 1778. John, born 1774, 
married a Miss Danforth. This was 
the migratory couple I have mentioned. 
Dudley, born Aug. 13th, 1745, grad- 
uated at Harvard in 1765. He mar- 
ried Mary, daughter of John and 



7>A 



152 



REMTXISCENCES 



Mary (Wliipple) Jones, and established 
a tavern in Oldtown on the old lioston 
road. The house is still standing on 
High street, now styled the old Ilsley 
house. He was town clerk for New- 
bury, and at the commencement of the 
Revolutionary war entered the army, 
where he attained the rank of colonel. 
Mrs. Colman, a tall, dignified woman, 
possessing a superior education, and 
much elegajice of manner, during 
her husband's absence, conducted the 
public house with great success. Col. 
Colman removed to Boston, where for 
several years he was landlord of the 
"Bunch of Grapes Tavern." His 
health failing he purchased a farm in 
Brookfield, N. H., where he died Nov. 
16th, 1797. 

The following items of Col. Col- 
man's militar}' career are of intei'est. 
The first is taken from the order book 
of Col. Moses Little, the October suc- 
ceeding the battle of Long Island : 

Fort Constitution, 
Oct. 13th. 

It is Gen. Greene's orders that my 
Brigade move over the Ferry immedi- 
ately. The regiments to leave a care- 
ful officer & 12 men each to bring for- 
ward their baggage to King's Bridge, 
who is to take care that none of it be 
left behind or lost. When the Reg'ts 
are over the ferry, they will march to 
Mt. Washington & remain there till 
further orders. .You will huriy the 
march as fast as possible, as they must 
cross the ferry this night. 

Jno. Nixon, B. C. 

To Dudley Colman, A. B. M. 

East Chester, Oct. iGth. 
The several reg'ts in this Brigade 
are to draw 4 days i)rovision & have it 
cooked immediatel}-. The Q. M. Avill 
apply to the assistant Q. M. Gen'l for 
carriages to transport their provisions. 
Col. Varnum's Keg't to relieve Col. 
Nixon's at Frogg's Point this P. M. 



Oct. 16th. 
Sir : — You are to order Col. Var- 
num's reg't to march immediately to 
Frogg's Neck to relieve Col. Ritzema's 
or Col. Malcom's reg't (which of the 
two you find there not relieved). You 
will get a pilot from Col. Nixon's reg't 
to direct them thither. 

Jno. Nixon, B. C. 
To Dudley Colman, Brigade Major. 
Miles Square, ") 
East Chester, v 
Oct. ISth. ) 
Sir : — You will have a working, part}' 
of .300 men & officers ready to go to 
work as soon as the tools arrive, which 
I have sent for, & you will see that suit- 
able guards are mounted b^' each regi- 
ment. 

Jno. Nixon, B. C. 
To D. Colman, B. Major. 

Subjoined is a copy of a letter from 
Col. Dudley Colman to Col. Moses 
Little, of Turkey Hill : 

Camp Auiiant, 
Oct. 28th, 1777. 
Dear Sir : — I have the pleasure, 
though late, to congratulate you on the 
surrender of Gen. Burgo^ne and his 
army. Some of them doubtless you 
will have the pleasure of seeing before 
this reaches you. It may I think be 
reckoned among the extraordinary 
events history furnishes us with to 
have 5000 and upwards of veteran, 
disciplined troops, besides followers of 
the army surrounded & their resources 
& ]-e treat so cut off in the field, as to 
oblige them to surrender prisoners of 
war, without daring to come to further 
action, is an event I do not recollect 
to have met with in histoiy, much less 
did I ever expect to see it in this war. 
I confess I could hardly belicA^e it to be 
a reality when I saw it, the prospect 
was trul^y extremely pleasing to see 
our troops paraded in the best order, 
and to see them marcli as prisoners b}' 
after the_y had laid down their arms, 
who but a few daya before liad preten- 
ded to despise (although at the same 
time I l:>elieve they did not think so 
lightlj' of us as the}' pretended) afford- 



OF A XOI^AGE^AKTA^. 



153 



ed a most striking & agreeable pros- 
pect. I can but mention the good 
order observed by our troops on see- 
ing them march by, no laughing or 
marks of exultation were to be seen 
among them, nothing more than a 
manly joy appeared on the countenan- 
ces of our troops, which showed that 
tiie}- had fortitude of mind to bear 
prosperity without being too much 
elated, as well as to encounter the 
greatest hardships & dangers. It has 
likewise been observed to rae by sev- 
eral of the British officers, that the}" 
did not expect to be received in so 
polite a manner. & that they never saw 
troops behave with more decenc}', or a 
better spirit on such an occasion. 

We have I think for the present re- 
stored peace in the northern quarter & 
althougli for a little time past viewed 
the evacuation of Ticonderoga as a 
misfortune, we ma}' now see it has 
proved a means of destroying this ene- 
my. 

- Gen. Clinton has of late made an 
attempt to come up the river & has de- 
stroyed several places in order to make 
a diversion in favor of Gen. Burgoyne, 
but he was too late. We expect orders 
to strike our tents every day, as we 
have been under marching orders these 
three days, & part of the army are 
gone. I know not where we are to 
march to, but suppose it to be down 
the river, when if we can get between 
the enemy & their sliips, we shall en- 
deavor to convince them that the}' are 
not to proceed in the way they have 
done, of destroying the property of 
our fellow-countrymen. Please to give 
my best regards to Mr. Gray and fam- 
ily, & all friends, & I should be hap- 
py to have a line from you. 
I am, dear Sir, 

Your most obedient, 
humble servant, 
Dudley Colman. 
To Col. Moses Little, member of the 
House of Representatives. 

The following letter, dated Newbury, 
July 19th, 1792, was written by Dea. 
Benjamin Colman, soon after the death 



of his second wife, to his son, Col. 
Dudley Colman, in Boston. The latter 
part refers to Col. Colman's having em- 
braced more liberal religious views 
than those in which he had been edu- 
cated. I omit an account of •the sick- 
ness of Mrs. Colman ; after announc- 
ing her departure, Dea. Colman writes : 

"In the time of her sickness, as well 
as before, I used to put questions to 
her that I might know the state of her 
mind. She used always to entertain 
a hope that God had given her a gra- 
cious turn of mind, but she was press- 
ing after that full assurance of an in- 
terest in the favor of God, whereby she 
might be actually ready for the sum- 
mons of death & meet it with an 
holy confidence. I can't say that she 
did attain to that full assurance which 
she wished & longed for, but about 
three days before she died, which was 
the last time I could understand what 
she said, I ask'd her about the state 
of her mind, how it was as to her hopes 
& fears, and she answered me as near 
as I can repeat in the following words, 
viz: 'Mr. Colman, I am conscious to 
myself of many failings, infirmities and 
shortcomings, I have no righteousness 
of my own to plead for my justification 
before God, my only hope of salvation 
is in the atoning blood, and righteous- 
ness of the great Redeemer, the Lord 
Jesus Christ.' Some other things she 
spake at the same time to the same 
purpose, after that conversation her 
speech failed, so that I could under- 
stand but little she said, though she 
continued near three days, I hope and 
trust she w^as sincere and sound in the 
faith, so that she is received to the 
mercy of eternal life tlu'o' Jesus Christ 
our Lord. And now in my old age, 
God has a second time deprived me of 
a companion, my prayer is that God 
will grant me his quickening grace that 
I may double my diligence in prepar- 
ing to follow my deceased wives to that 
world of spirits to which we are all 
hastening. And now my dear child, 
W'hat shall 1 say to you. You and I 
20 



154 



KEMIXISCEXCES 



dailey soc that death is the end of all 
men and women, and the wise man tells 
us the living will lay it to heart, i e, we 
should do so, & if we are rational we 
shall do so, if we act wisely for our- 
selves we shall consider ourselves as we 
are, probationers for that llual state of 
retribution & judgment after which 
there will be no change — consider my 
dear child, you and I are near this 
change of states, by which unconceiva- 
ble happiness or unconceivable misery 
will taive place on us. I beseech you 
to allow yourself a little time, if it be 
but a t|uarter of an hour in a day, to 
retire from company to your closet or 
chamber to look into the state of your 
immortal soul, and think with yourself 
if you had a large estate in prospect, 
even in this world, if .you doubted as to 
3'our title to the same, if 3'ou feared 
3'ou should lose all & be a beggar in 
misery & distress, how solicitous would 
you be to secure a good title to that es- 
tate which 3"ou could keep & enjo}" but 
for a short, limited time, — but alas, 
what a faint similitude is this to set 
forth the favor of God, & an interest 
in Christ, and an interest in that king- 
dom, where j'ou may enjo^" all that 
heart can wish or tho't conceive, con- 
sider if 3'ou lose j'our soul, 'twill be an 
influite loss, an irreparable loss, there- 
fore your all is at stake. I beseech 
you lay to heart Christ's own words viz : 
'what will it profit a man if he gain the 
whole world & lose his soul,' these are 
the words of him that is AVisdom itself 
& truth itself, the3' are the words of 
him that laid down his precious life a 
ransome for mankind — sinners ; that 
will be the final Judge of all the world, 
both Angels & men, for God the father 
has constituted the Son, as God man, 
Mediator to that office, and has given 
assurance of it to all men in that he 
has raised him from the dead, declared 
him to be the son of God, with power 
by his resurrection. Set him at his 
own right hand, exalted him for- this 
verj" purpose, to give repentance & re- 
mission of sins. This Jesus will be 
our Judge at the last day, inspiration 
tells us he will come in flaming fire to 



take vengeance on them that know not 
God, and that obey not the gospel of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall be 
punished with everlasting destruction 
from the presence of the Lord & from 
the glory of his power. Dreadful 
words, and more dreadful da}', when 
this exalted God man shall assume his 
throne, appear in his robes of majest}-,. 
to take vengeance on his enemies, on 
all contemners, & sliters of gospel sal- 
vation & mercy, which he has tendered 
to lost, perishing sinners, in & through 
that precious blood of his. which he 
shed for the remission of our sins, how- 
can we endure to hear that dreadful 
sentence, depart from me ye cursed, 
you have silted offered mere}', abused 
my patience, resisted & grieved m}' 
spirit, and now^ the door is shut. This 
my dear child, will ineviably be the 
doleful doom of all that set light by Je- 
sus Christ & neglect the great salva- 
tion, pui'chased by the blood of him 
that was God as well as man. But am 
I saying all this to an Infidel — a Soci- 
nian who denies the Divinity of Jesus 
Christ, — or to a Univcrsalist, who hopes 
& expects that all men will be saved at 
last, tlio' they have no gracious princi- 
ple wrought in them in this life of pro- 
bation & trial, or am I writing to a fa- 
talist that presumes on the decrees of 
God, and argues thus with himself: 
if I am elected I shall be saved let me 
do as I will, and live as I list ; and if 
I am not elected, 'tis impossible for me 
to be saved, let me' do all that I can in 
a wa3' of means, and take ever so much 
pains for the salvation of my soul, be- 
cause God's eternal decrees stand against 
me. These pernicious tenets, and a 
thousand more artfices the malicious 
Adversar}- of our precious souls sug- 
gests to us to wheedle us along by his 
artful devices, till the summons of death 
arrests us and then he will be sure of 
us. O, ni}' dear child, resist and shun 
liis dcA-ices, flee to Christ b}- faith now 
while the door of mercy & hope are yet 
open, make God in Christ your refuge, 
& believe God's word, whatever his se- 
cret decrees are (which you can not 
know at your pleasure), his word & 



OF A XOXAGEXARIAX. 



155 



promises are plain, viz, If you believe 
on tiie Lord Jesus Christ 3011 shall be 
saved, and as a good means to convince 
3'ou of the perniciousness and falsity 
of Socinian heresy, I beseech 3-ou for 
your soul's sake, upon reading this let- 
ter, to set apart some time in secret, 
open 3-ourlHble, and read with prayer- 
ful attention, the fore part of the "first 
chapter of 8t John's gospel, and beg 
God that you may know the truth of 
those words, viz, In the beginning was 
the word, and the word was with God, 
and the word was God, &c., &c. I 
beseech 3-ou not to think 3'our conver- 
sion impossible, or that 3-ou cannot for- 
sake your old companions & steer 
another course, these are .Satan's devi- 
ces to hold you where 3-ou are, till he 
has made sure of 30U ; 1 pra3- the Lord 
to pluck 3'ou out of his snare, & con- 
found his devices, and set 3-ou at liber- 
t3-, for although his malice is infinite, 
his power is limited, 3-ou are in God's 
hands & he can deliver & save 3'ou. 
But if you are resolved to keep on & 
live in a careless neglect of the salva- 
tion of 3^our immortal soul, if 3-ou still 
harden your heart and ' refuse to come 
to Christ for life, I can only tell 3-ou 
my soul shall weep in secret places for 
you still, and that God will glorify his 
justice iu 3-our eternal destruction. But 
how can 1 bear the tho't, that 3-ou m3- 
dear child should be the object of God's 
everlasting displeasure & wrath ? Since 
it is the last time I expect to write to 
you, please to bear with me while I ex- 
postulate the case with 3-ou. w^h3^ will 3^ou 
die when life is to be had for the taking ? 
God is yet upon a throne of glorious 
grace, holding out the sceptre of his 
mercy to you, his voice is to you,0 man, 
I call, &c., as I live saith the Lord, I 
have no pleasure in the death of him 
that dieth, but had rather he would turn 
and live, him that cometh to me I will 
in no wise cast out. But if you refuse 
to hearken to my expostulations, pray 
my child hearken to Christ's expostula- 
tions. Oh that they had known in this 
their day, the things that belong to 
their peace, this God speaks to you my 
child, as I told you iu m3- other letter, 



you are welcome to Christ if Christ be 
welcome to you, nothing does or can 
hinder your salvation if 3-ou be willing 
to come to Christ for life, he says, I 
will take awa3- the heart of stone, and 
give 3-0U a heart of flesh, I will blot 
out all your transgressions, tho' your 
sins are as scarlet or as crimson, tho' 
3-our sins were as man3- as the sanda, 
or as might3- as the mountains, tho' 
3-our sins were as luunerous as the stars 
in the sk3-, the blood of Christ is suffi- 
cient to expiate all their guilt, and his 
spirit is able to purge awa3- all the tilth 
of them, and to sprinkle 3-our guilty- con- 
science Avith the blood which cleanses 
from all sin & he still sa3-s, w^hosoever 
will, let him come & take the water of 
life freely, & him that cometh to me, I 
v»'ill in no w-ise cast out. God grant 
for his name'^ sake that 3-ou ma3- be 
made willing to accept his ottered mer- 
C3-, and be made a triumph of his sov- 
ereign grace thro' Jesus Christ our 
Lord. Amen. 80 pra3'S 3-our loving 
parent, 

Benjamin Colman." 

Dea. Colman died in 1797." 

Kev. Henr3- Colman, son of Col. 
Dudle3'^, a distinguished Unitarian cler- 
gyman, w-as first settled at Plingham, 
afterwards iu Salem ; in his latter years 
he became noted as an agriculturist and 
an author. 

Thomas, born in 1751, the third son 
of Deacon Benjamin Colman, graduat- 
ed at Harvard in the class of 177U, and 
was drowned at Newbur3- bar October 
28, 1784. 

Benjamin, born in 1752, married Ma- 
ry Chute. He owned a farm nearly 
opposite the Congregational meeting- 
house in Byfield, and was also engaged 
in the shoe business. After his father's 
decease he succeeded him as deacon in 
the church. 

Moses, born in 1755, inherited the 
original tarm of the first settler, Thom- 
as Cohnan, which, from his father. Col. 



156 



REMIXISCEl^CES 



Jeremiali Colmaii, has descended to 
Moses Colmau, esq., of Boston. Mr. 
Colman also carried on an extensive 
butcliering business. His first wife 
was Dorolly Pearson, b}- wliom he had 
one son, Jeremiah. His second wife 
was Bett}- (Little) Emery, who also 
had one son, Daniel Colman. 

Samuel, born in 17G2, a graduate of 
Harvard, married Susanna, grand- 
daughter of Joseph Atlvins, esq. .He 
studied medicine, and entered into prac- 
tice in Augusta, Me. He al'terwards 
returned to Newburyport, engaged in 
teaching, where he died in 18 10, and 
was interred in St. Paul's churchyard. 

Caleb, born in 1762, married a Miss 
Buibank, and purchased a farm in Han- 
over, N. H. 

William, born in 17(58, for a time re- 
sided on the homestead, then removed 
to Boscawen, N. H., where he owned 
a farm and mill. His first wife was 
Susan Thurston. She was the mother 
of Daniel Thurston and Hannah (twins) 
Dorothy', Judith, Sumner, Luc}', ]Marv, 
and Bett}' who died in childhood. His 
second wife was the widow Temple; 
she had three sons, Lmher, AVilliam 
and Da\'id Emery. After her deatli 
Mr; Colman married the widow Brown, 
daughter of JNIr. JMoses Pillsbnr}' of 
Crane-neck hill. 

Mary, the only daughter, born, in 
1757, married Mr. Joseph Searle of 
By field. 

Chai'les Harris, oldest son of Daniel 
Thurston and Nanc}" (Harris) Colman, 
born Febrnary 8, 1819 ; graduated at 
Bowdoin in 1843; October 19, 1844, 
married Deborah Dinsmore of Auburn, 
N. H. For many years Mr. Colman 
has resided at the West. 

Samuel, son of Samuel and Tamelia 
(Chandler) Colman, and grandson of 



Dr. Samnel Colman, born in 1832 ; 
studied art ; went abroad in 1860, 
studying in Paris and Spain ; was made 
a member of the National Academ}' 
in 1864; president of the American 
Water Color Society in 1866 ; resigned 
in 1872 and went aliroad spending 
some 3'ears in the principal cities of 
Europe. He was married in 1862. 
The Colman arms are : 





PAETI PEK FE8S, OR, SABLE; A CROSS PATEE BETWEEN 

FOUP. MULLETS COUNTERCHANGED. CREf<T, 

A greyhound's HEAD. 

Tlie Hale family is of consideraltle 
antiquity, and of high respectabilit}' in 
England. Thomas Hale, of Codicote, 
in Hertfordshire, married Anne, daugh- 
ter of Edmund jMitchell, and had three 
sons. Kichard. William and John. Rich- 
ard, the eldest son, purchased the es- 
tate of King's Walden in Hertford- 
shire, and died in 1(320. His son Wil- 
liam succeeded him, and died in Aug- 
ust, lf)o4, aged sixty-six. He left nine 
children: Ricliard, born in 1596 ; Wil- 
liam, 1597 ; Rowland, his heir ; George, 
born' July 30, 1601 ; Alicia, in 1603; 
Winefrida. in 1604 ; Thomas, in 160(j ; 
Anne, in 1(U)9; and Dionesia. March 
17, IGU. 

Thomas Hale, with his wife Tamosin, 
came to Newbury in 1635, and located 



OF A XOXAGEXARIAN^. 



157 



on the south side of the river Parker. 
He died December 21, 1G82, ag-ed 78. 
She died January 30, 1683. Children : 
Thomas, born 1633 : John, born 1636 ; 
and Samuel. 

Thomas Hale, jr., married Mary 
Hutchinson of Danvers, Ma^' 2(], 1657. 
He died October, 1688. Children: 
Thomas, born February, 165(S ; IVFary, 
born July 15, 1660; Abigail, born 
April 8, 1662; Hannah, burn Novem- 
ber 29, 1663; Lydia, l)orn April 17, 
1666; Elizabeth, born October Hi. 
16T)8 ; Joseph, born February 20, 1671 ; 
Samuel, born June 6, 1674. 

Capt. Thomas Hale married Sarah, 
daughter of Ezekiel and Edna (Hol- 
stead) Northend of Rowley, May 16, 
1682. Cliildren : Thomas, born March 
9, 1683; lulna, born November 21, 
1684; Mary, born April 28, 1687; 
Ezekiel, born May 13, 168ll' Nathan, 
l)orn June 2, 1691 ; Sarah, born March 
9, 1693; Ebenezer, born April 21, 
1695 ; Daniel, born February 22, 1697 ; 
Hannah, born June 7, 1699; Joshua, 
born March 17, 1701. 

Ezekiel Hale purchased a farm in the 
west precinct, and married Ruth Moody 
of Pipestave hill. She died, leaving 
two daughters, Ruth, and Elizabeth 
who died in childhood. Mr. Hale next 
married Mary Sargent of Amesbnry. 
She died, leaving a daughter Mary. 
His third wife was Sarah, daughter of 
Parson Balch of Bj-adford. She died, 
leaving a daughter Sarah. The fourth 
wife was Mary (Poor) Spoffbrd. She 
had one son, Ezekiel, and three daugh- 
ters ; one of these married JNIr. But- 
trick, the second Mr. Hildreth, and the 
third Squire Farnum of Dracut. Ruth, 
the oldest daughter, married John, sec- 
ond son of Capt. Pxlmund Little, of 
Crane-neck hill. Mary, the second 



daughter, married Enoch, the third son 
of Capt. P^dmund Little. Sarah, the 
third daughter, married Mr. Moses 
Pillsbury, of Crane-neck hill. From 
the son, Ezekiel, descended Joshua 
Hale, born in Dracut, August 27, 1777, 
who died in New Orleans, of yellow 
fever, August 29, 1817. He went to 
Worcester, wliere he was a clothier and 
builder of machinery, and was the first 
who built a wool-carding machine in 
New England. Rev. Christopher Sar- 
gent Hale, Brown University 1820, and 
Hon. Ezekiel James Madison Hale, 
Dartmouth 1835, now of Haverhill, 
Mass. 

Daniel, fifth son of Capt. Thomas 
Hale, married Judith Emery. He com- 
manded a companj' in Col. Samuel 
Waldo's Massachusetts regiment in the 
expedition against Louisbui'g in 1745, 
and was killed at the head of his com- 
pany, in the trenches before that forti- 
fication. May 21, 1745. His descend- 
ants are numerous in Essex county, 
Mass., and elsewhere. Among them 
are the late Francis Pickard Hale, Bow- 
doin 1845, of Charlestown, Mass., and 
Daniel Harris Hale, esq., of Rowley, 
president of the Rowley Historical 
Society. 

Rev. Moses Hale, born July 10, 
1678; graduated at Harvard in 1699; 
ordained in Newbury, Byfield, October, 
1706 ; and died in January, 1743, aged 
66 3'ears. 

Rev. Moses Hale, born in Newbury 
in 1703 ; graduated at Harvard in 1722 ; 
was ordained in Chester, N. LL, Octo- 
ber 20, 1731, and dismissed June 4, 
1735. 

Rev. Moses Hale, born January 18, 
1715 ; graduated at Harvard in 1734 ; 
settled in Newbury, west parish, Feb- 



158 



EEMTXISCEN^CES 



ruaiy 20, 1752; and died JamiaiT 15, 
1779, aged 64. 

Rev. Moses Hale, son of the preced- 
ing, born in Rowley, February 19, 1749 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1771 ; was or- 
dained in Boxford, and died Ma}' 26, 
1798. 

Nathan Hale, born in Newbur3% 
March 1, 1720; graduated at Harvard 
in 1739, and died in Newbury. 

Samuel Hale, born in Newbury, Aug- 
ust 24, 1718 ; graduated at Harvard in 
1740. In 1745 he commanded a com- 
pany of provincials at Louisburg, and 
for more than thirty 3'ears was a dis- 
tinguished teacher of youth in Ports- 
mouth, N. H. He died July 10, 1807, 
aged 89. 

Thomas Hale of Newbury, May 25, 
1797, married Alice, the eldest daugh- 
ter of Col. Josiah Little. Children: 

Rev. Benjamin, D.D., born November 
23, 1797, graduated at Bowdoin Col- 
lege in 1818, studied theology at An- 
dover, was professor of chemistry and 
mineralogy at Dartmouth College, pres- 
ident of Hol)art College, Geneva, N.Y., 
for over twenty 3'ears, and the author 
of various educational works. He 
married, April 9, 1829, Mary Caroline 
King. Dr. Hale died July 15, 1863. 

Moses Little, born April 7, 1799. 
An eminent business man of Boston, 
deacon of the Bowdoin street church, 
and the occupant of many responsible 
positions. He married Mar^' Lane, 
3'oungcst daughter of the Rev. James 
Miltimo're, first pastor of the Belleville 
church. He died June 22, 1874. 

Thomas, born Octo'ber 1.3, 1800: 
married Caroline Charlotte Jordan Oct- 
ober 7, 183G. He died May 28, 1854. 

Sarah, born March 29, 1802; died 
April 9, 1834. 

Josiah Little, born December 9, 1803 ; 



entered the office of the Merchants In- 
surance Compan3', of Boston, at the 
age of eighteen, where his fidelity and 
courteous manners soon won him pro- 
motion. In 1825 he became secretar3' 
of the Y\'ashington ISIarine Insui-anee 
Company, and in 1828, on the opening 
of a branch office, he went to New 
York as its manager. After a 3'ear of- 
marked success in this position, he 
Joined with the late Walter R. Jones in 
establishing the Atlantic Insurance 
Compan}' of New York. To do this 
he had to raise $150,000 of the capital 
stock, and his Boston friends proved 
their confidence in his character and 
ability liy subscriptions to twice that 
amount. In this position he remained 
for twenty-five years, in which time the 
Atlantic became the leading marine in- 
surance company in the country. He 
was com})elled, 1)3' continued ill health, 
to resign his office in 1854. In the 
resolutions of respect and regret then 
adopted, the trustees refer to the com- 
pany as established essentially through 
his active instramentalit3', and as hav- 
ing under his administration enjo3'ed a 
course of uninterrupted success. Mr. 
Hale^held with an intelligent and firm 
conviction the great doctrines of grace, 
but without bigotr3- or sectarianism. 
The Bible w'as his constant companion, 
and doing good his constant delight. 
He died February 26, 1875. 

Edward, born November 8, 1805; 
married widow I'lizabeth L. Brown Jau- 
uar3' 30, 1837. 

j\Liry, born July 5, 1807 ; died March 
13, 1859. 

Dr. Ebenezer, born April 28, 1809 ; 
graduated at Dartmouth in 1829 ; mar- 
ried Sarah Bnnnister June 13, 1844. 
He died August 2, 1847. 

Alice Little, born April 15, 1811 ; 



OP A XOXAGEIsTAElJLN'. 



159 



married, April 23, 1832, Rev. Jolin 
Charles March, second pastor of the 
Belleville church, who died September 
2G, 1846. 

Capt. Joshua, born December 14, 
1812; married Sophia Cutler Teune}- 
January 4, 1844. 

Alice, wife of Thomas Hale, died 
July 27, 1819. On Septeml)er 17, 1822, 
Mr. Hale married Mary, fifth daughter 
of Col. Josiah Little. Their only child 
was James White,' born September 8, 
1827, and died October 11, 1832. 

Mr. Thomas Plale died August 14, 
1836. Marj', widov>^ of Thomas Hale, 
died Januar}' 26, 1871. 

Benjamin, oldest son of Dr. Benja- 
min Hale, born October .'51, 1827; 
graduated at Hobart College in 1848 ; 
October 29, 1855, he married Lucy 
Balch Plale, onl}- daughter of Col. 
Ebenezer Hale. 

Thomas, the second son, born July 
11, 1834 ; graduated at Hobart College 
in 1853 ; vice-president of the Pacific 
jMutual Insurance Company, New York ; 
Februar3' 24, 1870, married Luc}" F. 
Searcy. 

C3'rus King, third son, born March 
17, 1838; graduated at Hobart CoUege 
in 1858 ; Ma}' 9, 1866, married Alice 
Little, onh' child of Capt. Joshua Hale ; 
died June 6, 1874. 

Dr. Josiah, fourth son, born April 1, 
1841 ; graduated at Hobart College in 
1860 ; studied medicine at Harvard 
Medical School and in Europe ; April 
24, 1873, he married Annie Skinner 
Pierce. 

Eben Thomas Hale, onh' son of Col. 
Ebenezer and Lucy (Balch) Hale, born 
May 9, 1842; graduated at Yale Col- 
lege in 1862. That year he enlisted in 
Fort^'-fifth Massachusetts regiment for 
nine months' service, under General 



Foster. Stationed at Newbern, N. C, 
the regiment did provost duty ; was in 
the engagement at Whitehall and 
Kingston, returning home in June, 
1863. Afterward he studied law at 
the Harvard Law School. His health 
becoming impaired, he went to South 
America in 1866, visiting Rio Janeiro 
and other places of interest. After 
his return he became a partner in the 
firm of Lowell & Brett, stationers, 
Boston, continuing in the business until 
his death, which took place September 
7, 1868. 

Moses Hoyt Hale, born May 24, 
1S29 ; married C. Adeline Preston, 
of Dan vers, January 29. 1852 ; repre- 
sented Salem in Massachusetts legisla- 
ture in 1868 and 1869. Since Febru- 
ary 14, 1870, a special agent of the 
United States treasury department. 
He died at his home in Dan vers, in 
1879. 

Albert Hale, born September 13, 
1839 ; graduated at PLarvard in 1861 ; 
principal of the high school in Fair- 
haven, Mass., from January, 1862, to 
April, 1864 ; principal of female high 
school at Newburyport, Mass., from 
May, 1864, to November, I860; pri- 
vate tutor in Cambridge and Boston in 
1865 and 1866 ; teacher in the English 
high school, Boston, from 1866 ; since 
1875 a master in said school. August 
18, 1869, he married Katherme, daugh- 
ter of Albert and Katherine (Daven- 
port) Wood, of Newburyport. 

Frank A, Hale, born January 8, 
1854; received the degree of M. D. 
March 1, 1876, at the Boston Univer- 
sitv School of Medicine. 



160 



KEMII^ISCEI^CES 



The arms of the Hales of King's 
Walden, ai'e : 




AZURE, A CHBVnON EMBATTLED, COUNTER-EMEAT- 

TLED OR. CKKST— A SNAKE PROPER, ENTWINED 

AROUND FIVE ARROWS 01!, HEADED SAEI.E, 

FEATHERED ARGENT. ONE IN PALE, FOUR 

SALTIUE. 

William Moody came from Ipsn-ich. 
England, to Ipswich. America, in IGoi, 
and to Newbnry in 1635. His wile 
was Sarah. Children : Joshua, Caleb, 
AVilliam and Samuel. 

Calel) iVIoodv married Sara Pierce, 
who died August 25, 1665. Children: 
Daniel and Sara. His second wife was 
JutUth Bradbury. Children : Calel>, 
Thomas, Judith, (born September 23, 
1669, and died at Salisbury, January 
28, 1671)), Joshua, William, Samuel. 
Mary, and Judith. 

Joshua Moody married IMary Green- 
leaf in 16S6. Children: Mary, born 
June 26, 1697 ; Elisabeth, December 
4, 1698 ; Joshua, born Nov. 11, 1700 ; 
Abigail, born September 30, 1703; 
and Judith, born October 26, 1705. 

Elisabeth, second daughter of JMr. 
Joshua Mood^', married my great-grand- 
father, Capt. James Smith, the first 
owner of the Crane-neck hill ftirm. 

Caleb Moody, married Ruth Morse, 
Dec. 9, 1690, and settled on a farm at 



Pipestave hill, now known as the 
Ridgway place. Their daughter Elisa- 
beth, married Mr. Ezekiel Hale, whose 
daughter Ruth, became the wife of 
John Little, of Crane-neck hill. 

William Moody, of Ipswich, Eng., 
settled on a farm in Oldtown, which is 
still retained b}^ his descendants ; the 
son of ]Mr. N. Warren Moody, being 
the nintli generation born on the place. 

William .bloody married J\Ielii;'tabel 
Sewell, November, 16S4, and settled 
on a farm in Byfield, Avhere his descend- 
ants became prominent citizens. It 
was from one of these, Capt. Paul 
Moody, that the company which found- 
ed the first woolen factory in the state, 
purchased the water power at the falls 
of the river Parker. Perkins's cut 
nails were first manufactured in the 
mill house previously owned by Capt. 
Moody. By such surroundings his 
sons from youth, became initiated in 
mechanics. 

Paul Moody, jr., and Steven Kent, 
manufactured the first broadcloth in the 
United States, at the factor^' in B^-field. 
Afterwards Mr. Moody was engaged 
on the mills at Waltham, then in com- 
pany with John Dummer, another B}-- 
field genius, and Kirk Boot ; he was 
prominent amongst the founders of the 
city of Lowell, ranking as the first ma- 
chinist in New England. 

David Mood}', a younger brother, 
superintended the construction of the 
Boston mill dam, and for several years 
was the surerintendent of the iron 
works there. 

The two oldest sons of Capt. Paul 
Moody, Nathan and Samuel, after 
graduating at Dartmouth college, with 
another son, Enoch, went to Hallowell, 
Maine, where Mr. Enoch Moody found- 
ed the Hallowell bank. Afterwards he 



OF A NOl^AGEIQ^AEIAN. 



161 



returned to Massachusetts and became 
a resident of Newburyport, where he 
died. 

Rev. Joshua Mood}-, the oldest son 
of William, of England, born in 1632, 
graduated at Harvard in 1655 ; was or- 
dained at Portsmouth, N. H., 1671 ; 
was minister of the first church in Bos- 
ton, from May 23, 1684, till 1692, and 
died in Boston, July 4, 1697, in his 
65th year. This divine was distinguish- 
ed for his vehement opposition to the 
witchcraft delusion, in which he stood 
• nearly alone amongst the New England 
clergy, at the imminent risk of himself 
becoming a victim to the popular frenz}'. 
Caleb, the second son of Mr. William 
Mood.y, represented Newbury in the 
General Court, where his pluckj- resist- 
ance to the tyrant. Sir P]dmund An- 
dross, caused him to be imprisoned for 
treason. 

Rev. Joseph Moody of York, the 
father of the renowned Master Moody 
of Dummer Academy, was known 
throughout the colony as "Handker- 
chief Moody," from his wearing, for 
many years, a handkerchief over his face 
in the pulpit, or in any public place. 
This monomania was induced by the 
idea that he was responsible for the 
death of an intimate friend ; to expiate 
his sin he veiled his face forevermore 
from the sight of his fellow mortals. 
This pious maniac was a man of supe- 
rior ability, which was manifested in 
various civil offices, including that of 
county judge, which he held pre^dous 
to entering the ministry. His son, 
Samuel Moody, a graduate of Har- 
vard in 1 763, became the first preceptor 
of Dummer Academy, Master Mood}- 
was a stout, stalwart man, odd and ec- 
centric, but few teachers have been more 
revered and beloved by their pupils. 



amongst whom he lived to count with 
some of the most eminent men in the 
country. To dunces he showed as lit- 
tle sympathy or mercy as Master Chase. 
He was wont to mingle in the sports 
of his scholars, whom he encouraged 
to become good swimmers, for which 
exercise the A-icinity of the river 
Parker gave ample opportunity. He 
also, to the horror of the Puritan com- 
munity, introduced dancing as a school 
exercise, a French dancing master be- 
ing hired to give the boys instruction. . 
I think the dancing hall was in the loft 
of the school-room, in the gamble roof, 
which was well lighted b}^ end windows, 
and dormer ones in front. This pro- 
ject, which no one but the omnipotent 
and favorite Master Moody could have 
carried out, caused a great commotion. 
Mrs. Daniel Chute, who had two sons 
in the school, wrote a long poem, com- 
mencing : 

"Ye sons of Byfielrl, now draw near; 

Leave worship for the dance; 
Nor farther walk in wisdom's ways, 

But in the ways of France;" 

and Dea. Benjamin Colman, as long 
an essa}', in which he vehementl}^ pro- 
tested against this innovation, holding 
forth in the strongest terms its foolish 
frivolit}-, and the enormity of promis- 
cuous dancing in general. 

For thirty years Master Moody held 
undisputed sway over the academy ; 
then' the infirmities of age became so 
CA-ident that the appointment of a new 
teacher was deemed a necessity. To 
etfect this it was expedient to obtain an 
act of incorporation, which gave the 
trustees greater control over the estab- 
lishment. It was a delicate and pain- 
ful task to ask the resignation of such 
a man as Master Mood}^, and he did 
not readil}' resign the sceptre he had so 
21 



162 



REMENISCENCES 



long wielded, l)ut at lengtli was induced 
to do so, on March 25,, 1790. He lived 
until 1796, spending most of his time 
amongst his old pupils, at whose homes 
he ever met a cordial reception. He 
died at P^xeter, N. H. The following 
is the epitaph on his tombstone, in the 
grave3ard at York, Me. : 

^^ Integer vitce celerisque purus. 
Here lies the remains of Samuel, Moody, 
Esq., Preceptor of Duiiimer Academy (the 
First Institution of the kind in Mass.). He 
left no child to mourn his sudden death (for 
he died a Bachelor), yet his numerous pupils 
• in the U. S. will ever retain a lively sense of 
the Sociability, Industry, Integrity and I'iety 
he possessed in an unconnnon degree as well 
as the disinterested, zealous, faithful and use- 
ful manner he discharged the duties of the 
Academy for 30 years. He died at Exeter 
Dec. 17, aet 70." 

Rev. Samuel Moody, born January 4, 
1675 ; graduated at Harvard in 1697 ; 
was ordained in York, Maine, Decem- 
ber 20, 1700, and there died November 
13, 1747. Parson Mood}' was chap- 
lain in the army at the reduction of 
Louisburg. So conlldent was he of 
the success of our troops that he took 
with him a hatchet to cut the images' in 
the Catholic churches. 

Samuel Mood}', born in 1700, com- 
manded the fort at Pemaquid. then Fort 
George ; was a ph}sician in Brunswick, 
Me., where he died in 1758. 

Rev. John Mood}', born in 1 705 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1727 ; was or- 
dained in Newmarket November 25, 
1730, and died October 15, 1778, aged 
seventy-three. 

Rev. Amos Moody, born November 
20, 1739 ; graduated at Harvard 1759 ; 
was ordained in Pelham, N. H., Nov- 
20, 1765; dismissed in 1792, and died 
March 22, 1819, aged seventy-nine. 
, Rev. Silas Moody, born April 28, 
1742; graduated at Harvard in 1761 ; 
was ordained in Arundel January 9. 
1771, and died in April, 1816. 



Stephen Moody, Harvard, 1790, was 
a lawyer in Gihnanton, N. H., where 
he died. 

The arms of Moodye (Ipswich, Co. 
Suffolk, Eng.) are: 




AKGENT, ON A CHEVRON, ENGRAILED SABLE, BETWEEN 
THREE TREFOILS SLIPPED VERT, AS MANY LOZEN- 
GES or; ON A CHIEF AZURE, TWO ARMS ISSUING 
FROM CLOUDS PPR, VESTED BENDY OR, AND 
GULES, HOLDING IN HANDS A ROSE OF THE 
LAST. CREST— TWO ARMS EMBOWERED IN 
8ALTIRE, THE DEXTER VESTED GULES, 
THE SINISTER VERT, BACH HOLDING A 
CUTLASS ARGENT, HILTED OR. 

Richard, senior, and Stephen Kent, 
brotiiers, with their wives, came to Ips- 
Avich in 1635, thence to Newbury the 
same year, in the party of first settlers, 
with Messrs. Parker and Noyes. Ste- 
phen Kent went to Haverhill, thence to 
Woodbridge, N. J. His second wife, 
Ann, died in 1G60. He then married 
Eleanor, widow of William Scadlock, 
May 9, 1062. Children: Elisabeth. 
Hannah, Steven, Rebecca and Mary. 

Richard Kent, senior, had three sons 
— Richard, jr., and James, born in 
England, and John, born in Newbury — 
a daughter, Rebecca, who married Sam- 
uel Scullard, then John Bishop ; Sarah, 
whom he left in England, and other 
daughters. Richard Kent, senior, 
maltster, was a large landholder ; his 



OF A :nokagenaiiian. 



163 



house and malthonse were at the foot 
of Kent street. 

Richard Kent, jr., and his brother 
James owned Kent's Island, and land 
in Oldtown extending to Oldtown hill. 
Richard Kent, jr., married Jane 



who died June 26, 1674. He married 
his second wife, Mrs. Joanna David- 
son, Jan. 6, 1675. He died Nov. 25, 
1689, leaving no heirs. 

James Kent died Dec. 12, 1681, 
leaving one son, John, who inhei'ited 
the whole estate. He married Mar}- 
Hobbs Feb. 24, 1665. He made his 
will the first of January, 1712, in which 
he gave his dwelling-house, barn, shop, 
and two orchards, half of his island, 
household goods, a horse, etc., to his 
wife, Mar}-, for her use and comfort 
during life, and " to give, sell or dis- 
pose of as she shall tiiink fit among 
her children and grandchildren at her 
decease or before as she ma}' have oc- 
casion. Also I give my said wife all 
money I shall have in possession at the 
time of my decease. To my son Rich- 
ard Kent, I do confirm the gift of my 
uncle Richard Kent, late of Newbury, 
aforesaid, deceased, of eight score acres 
of land upon said island gi^-en by my 
said uncle to my said son, so as that he 
may enjoy the same. I do give him 
my said son the other half of sd. Island 
both meadow and upland & appurte- 
nances thereunto belonging, together 
with all my housing & orchards there- 
on, & all my common privileges & 
rights in all the common undivided 
lands for pastures where I have rights 
within the township of Newbury afore- 
sd & my wood lot, with all my right in 
the lands where the sd. wood lot is 
made, with all other of my estate both 
veal and personal wheresoever tt what- 
soever it may consist, excepting what 



is before given to my wife, & that 
which I do hereby give to the rest of 
of my children, on condition that he 
my sd. son Richard Kent do perform 
the trust 1 shall repose & commit unto 
him as my executor to this my last 
will. 

I give to my daughter Jane Smith, 
the wife of my son-in-law James Smith 
five pounds, together with what she has 
already received & has been given her. 

I give and bequeath to my son-in 
law Jacob Toppan four pounds, to be 
divided among the children of Sarah 
Toppan his late wife deceased. 

I give unto Sarah Thing, who was 
the wife of my son James Kent, late of 
Newbury aforesaid deceased, twenty 
shillings. 

I give unto Elizabeth Kent widow & 
Relict of my son James Kent of New- 
bury deceased twenty shillings. 

I do ratify and confirm my late con- 
veyance of my land in the upper com- 
mons made to my grandson James 
Smith jun, according to the tenor of 
the deed & on the condition thereof 
whereby I have conve}'ed the same to 
him." 

The bequest in the "upper com- 
mons," was the James Smith farm, on 
Crane-neck hill, West Newbury. As 
the house was built in 1707, James 
and Elizabeth (Moody) Smith had been 
in possession five years, when this will 
was written. 

Col. Richard Kent married first, Mrs. 
Sarah Greenleaf; second, Mrs. Han- 
nah Carter of Charlestown, whose moth- 
er was a daughter of Daniel Gookin, a 
preacher much valued in his day. Col. 
Kent by his will, entailed Kent's Island 
to his son Richard, and after his de- 
cease to his oldest son, and to the old- 
est male heir forever. He was a prom- 



164 



REIkllNISCENCES 



inent and influential man in the town. 
His monument on tlie old burying hill 
bears the following inscription : 

HERE LIES INTERRED 
THE BODY OF 

RICHARD KENT, ESQ., 

LATE COLONEL OF THE 

SECOND REGIMENT IN THE 

COUNTY ©F ESSEX, WHO DEPARTED 

THIS LIFE MAY THE 8tH, 1740, 

IN THE 68 TEAR OF HIS AGE. 

Col. Kent's son, Richard, came into 
possession of the whole of Kent Island 
according to the entail, but the birth of 
twins, his first sons, Stephen and Jo- 
seph, on May 9. 1741, brought an un- 
expected difficulty, as the nurse could 
not or would not say which was the 
first born. This question has never 
been decided, though a long and trouble- 
some lawsuit ensued, which at length 
was ended b}' an equal division of the 
property. I give a copy of the final 
decision by the court. 

' "Common WKALTU of Massachusetts. 

In the year of one Lord One Thous- 
and Seven Hundred and Eighty Four, 
an act for apportioning and Establish- 
ing the Posession of the heirs at Law 
of Richard Kent, son of Richard Kent, 
late of Newbur}'^ deceast, to a certain 
Island called Kent's Island in Newlniry 
aforesaid. 

Whereas the said Richard Kent the 
Father, b}' his last will and testament 
bearing date the sixth day of May. in the 
year of our Lord, One Thousand Seven 
Hundred and Fort}', amongother things, 
did devise that his son Richard aliove 
said, should have and enjoy the whole 
of the Island aforesaid during his nat- 
ural life, and after his decease his old- 
est Son should have and enjoy the 
same, as an estate tail to his, and the 
heirs male of his Bod}' Forever. Which 
last will and testament was afterwards 
duly proved and approved — and the 
said Richard the son, on the death of 
his father, entered into possession of 
the premises devised as aforesaid, and 
thereof died siezed, leaving issue Jo- 



seph Kent and Stephen Kent twin 
brothers, and Moses Kent, a younger 
brother, his sole heirs, and thereupon 
the sd. Joseph & Stephen entered into 
the possession thereof, and still hold 
the same, and bv reason of some singu- 
lar, and extraordinary circumstances 
attending the birth of the said Joseph 
and Stephen, it remained uncertain 
which is the oldest son, although a suit 
at law, and the verdict of two juries, 
have been had to determine the ques- 
tion. B}' which uncertaint}' great diffi- 
culty and contention ma}' further arise 
among the heirs of the said Richard to 
the utter ruin of the improvements, 
and cuhivation of so valuable an 
an Island, and to the Disgust of divers 
others good citizens, from preventing 
of which : — 

Be it enacted b}' the Senate and 
House of Representatives, in General 
Court assembled, and by the authorit}' 
of the same, that the Justices of the 
Supreme Court, on the application of 
the said Joseph, Stephen and Moses, 
or on the application of either of them, 
his or their heirs, shall cause partition 
of the said Island to be made, and by 
like Process as is provided for di\iding 
of other Real Estate on application to 
the said Court : 

One third part of tlie said Island 
shall be set oft' to the said Joseph Kent 
or his heirs, one third to the said Ste- 
phen Kent or his heirs, one third to the 
said Moses Kent or his heirs." 

The island is now in possession of 
the heir of Stephen Kent, Joshua Noj'es 
Kent, he and his brother. John Kent, 
being the seventh in descent from Rich- 
ard Kent, jr., and jNIr. Joshua N. Kent's 
sons, and grandson, are the eighth and 
ninth generations on the island, and 
tenth in descent from Richard Kent, 
sen. The Kents have been esteemed 
and iijfluential citizens. In 163G, 
Richard Kent, sen. was chosen among 
the first "-seven men," to conduct the 
town's affairs. First called "seven 
men," then "town's men," finally "se- 



OP A IS'OXAGEI^AEIAN. 



165 



lectmen." Stephen, the brother of 
Richard, sen., was one of the four, 
who with Mr. Edward Rawson "contra- 
dieented" the order for moving the 
meeting-house from the lower green. 
In 1640 Richard Kent, jr., "in 3^6 
name of nine others," petitioned the 
General Court, to grant that Newbury 
should hold the whole of Plum Island, 
"to relieve our pinching necessities." 
During the trouble in the church, the 
names of Richard, John and James 
Kent are among those adhering to Mr. 
Parker's partly. In 1683, with ten oth- 
ers, Capt. John Kent petitioned that 
Newbury might be made a port of en- 
trj' as well as Salem. This Capt. Kent 
commanded the brig Merrimack, which 
was taken by pirates in INIartha's Vine- 
yard sound, Aug. 22, 1669. In 1788, 
Richard and Abel Kent gave the loca- 
tion to the town of the lower part of 
Kent street ; a lane led thence through 
the Coker estate to High street, which 
was called Coker's lane. 

Amos Kent, graduate of Harvard, 
1795, was a lawyer in Chester, N. H. 

'Moody Kent, graduate of Harvard, 
1801, practiced law in Concord, N. H. 

The arms of Kent are : 




ARGENT, leopard's HEAD OR; THREE SIULLETS VERT, 

TWO AND ONE COUNTERCHANGED. 

CRB8T — griffin's HEAD OR. 



Joseph Atkins, born in 1680, came 
from Isle of Wight to Newbury, with his 
wife, and sons, William and Joseph, 
and William's wife, about 1728. Tra- 
dition asserts that he had been a lieu- 
tenant in the British nav}', in the ser- 
vice of Queen Anne. Mrs. Atkins, 
whose maiden name was Strover, died 
soon after her arrival, and the widower 
married a second ^nfe. Mar}- (Dudley) 
Wainright, widow of Francis Wain- 
right, daughter of Gov. Joseph Dud- 
ley, and sister of Katherine, wife of 
Lieut. -Gov. Dummer. Captain At- 
kins, as he was styled, built a house 
which is still standing on the lower side 
of Strong street. • At its erection it 
was surrounded by extensive grounds 
reaching to High street, a garden hand- 
somely laid out stretched in front to the 
river, and a broad avenue shaded b}' 
trees led to the mansion. Capt. At- 
kins was prominent both in the town 
and church, being vestrj-man and war- 
den at Queen Ann's chapel, and a war- 
den at St. Paul's. The erection of the 
church 1)3' the "water side," was first 
suggested by him, and towards which 
he gave fiftv pounds, and at the first 
sale of pews he headed the list b}' tak- 
ing four, his son William taking a fifth. 
In 1738, permission was granted Jo- 
seph Atkins, esq., and sixt3'-four oth- 
ers, to build a wharf at the foot of 
Queen, now Market street. His tomb 
in the St. Paul's church 3-ard bears this 
inscription : 

"This stone is erected to the Memory of 
Joseph Atkins Esqnire. One of the Found- 
ers and A Generous Benefactor of this 
Church. Formerly an Eminent Merchant in 
this Towne, and Highly Esteemed by those 
who knew him. He departed this life Jan. 
2d, 1773, Aged 92. 

And of Mrs. Mary Atkins : 

The Virtuous and amiable Relick of Jo- 
sepli Atkins, Esq., And Daughter of His 
Excellency Joseph Dudley. She died No- 
vember 12th, 1774. Aged 82. 



166 



KEMrNTSCENCES 



Joseph and Maiy Atkins had one 
son, Dudley, born in 1731 ; he gradu- 
ated at Harvard in 1748. 

Prior to the decease of Col. Richard 
Kent, ol' Kent's Island, Col. Richard 
having entailed the estate to his oldest 
son, Richard, b}' his first wife, and to 
the oldest male heir forever, the famih' 
had removed to a residence owned b}' 
Col. Kent in Newburyport, where he 
died, and where his widow, formerly 
Hannah (Gookin) Carter, and her chil- 
dren, one sou and two daughters by 
second marriage, continued to reside. 

Madam Kent was a superior woman, 
possessed of a sound understanding 
and great benevolence, and although a 
most sincere and pious christian, her 
religion had nothing in it of austerity 
or bigotry. On winter evenings it was 
her custom to collect her children around 
her to read to them from some instruct- 
ive book, while she earnestly strove 
to iml)ue them thoroughly' with the 
principles and precepts of the Bible. 

Madam Kent was a neighbor of Capt. 
Atkins. The society of tliis interest- 
ing family must have been most conge- 
nial to young Dudley Atkins ; on May 
4, 1752, he led to the hymenial altar 
Miss Sarah Kent. Their children were 
Mary Rapell, born August, 1753 ; Jo- 
seph, born April, 1755 ; Hannah, born 
April, 1957 ; Katherine, born Oct. 
1758; Dudley, born Sept., 1760: Re- 
becca, born March, 1767. 

Dudley- Atkins was a prominent mer- 
chant and a leading citizen of the town, 
a warden and active member of St. 
Paul's church. 

Oct. 21, 1765, Kewburyport held a 
town meeting to instruct their represen- 
tative, Dudle}' Atkins, esq., '-relating 
to his acting in the General Court." 
respecting the Stamp Act. These in- 



structions expressed the most lo}' al sen- 
timents toward the king, but the Stamp 
Act was esteemed a peculiar grievance, 
and he was directed to use his influence 
to his utmost abilit}' "that the rights 
and privileges of the province may be 
preserved inviolate." A long list of 
resolutions ends with abhorrence of all 
seditious and mobbish insurrections, of 
all breaches of the peace, and "that you 
will readil}' concur in anv constitution- 
al measure that ma}' be necessary' to se- 
cure the public tranquillity;" 

The troubles with England increased, 
but Dudle}^ Atkins remained lo3'al to 
King George. On one occasion his 
house was surrounded b}' a mob ; Mr. 
Atkins being indisposed, several gentle- 
men went to his assistance, but his 
wife, the courageous Sarah (Kent) At- 
kins quelled the infuriated populace. 
Contrary to tlie remonstrance of friends, 
she opened the door, and addressed 
the throng, telling them, "that her hus- 
band was ill in bed, might not live to 
see them again ; they had always re- 
spected him, and the}' ought not to mo- 
lest her and her small and helpless chil- 
dren." The evil spirit was laid. Prom- 
ises of security were given, and the mob 
retired with cheers for Madame Atkins. 
Dudley Atkins, esq., died Sept. 24, 
1761, aged 38 years. His widow went 
to Amesbury where she resided for a 
time. Feeling the necessit}' of making 
some exertion towards the support of 
her young family, she determined to 
open a store on State street, Newbury- 
port. This was in the building now occu- 
pied b}' Mrs. Altar. It was mid-winter 
when the removal took place, the furni- 
ture and the famil}', with the exception 
of Mrs. Atkins and a man-servant, had 
gone, when a violent snow storm so 
l)locked the roads that it would be im- 



OP A NO:t;rAGENAEIA^. 



167 



possible to travel by the usual mode of 
conversance for some days. Unwilling 
to remain thus separated from her 
new home, where her presence was so 
imperatively demanded, infusing her 
spirit of enterprise, as was .her wont, 
into those around her, she obtained the 
willing consent of her own man, and 
another belonging to the farm, to draw 
her to Newbur3'port on a hand-sled, 
which they accomplished without an}' 
great difficulty. .Passing the house of 
a friend, where a large party were as- 
sembled at dinner, upon seeing her 
unique equipage the}' rushed out with 
ludicrous expressions of surprise and 
congratulation, while the contrast be- 
tween their situation and pursuits and 
hers were vividty striking. Friends in 
Boston supplied Madam Atkins with 
fine goods, the store prospered, and be- 
came the fashionable emporium of State 
street. 

Gov. Joseph Dudley married Rebec- 
ca Tyng. Their son, Edward, brother 
of Mrs. Joseph Atkins, left a large es- 
tate in Tyngsborough to his daughter, 
Mrs. Winslow. This lady, a childless 
widow, proposed to adopt young Dud- 
ley Atkins, and make him her heir if 
he would add Tyng to his name. As 
there was the oldest son Joseph to 
transmit the name of Atkins, this offer 
was accepted, but Joseph Atkins, an 
enterprising ship-master, died unmar- 
ried. His vessel was wrecked on a re- 
turn voyage, in a winter storm, and the 
whole crew perished. The body of 
Capt. Atkins, found frozen to the mast, 
was brought to the bereaved home for 
burial amongst his kindred in St. Paul's 
church 3ard. The stone erected to his 
memory bears this inscription : 

"Here are interred The Remains of Capt. 
Joseph Atkins, who (with bis wliole Ship's 



Company) perished by Shipwrecli on Cape 
Cod, Feb. ye 8tb, 1787. Aged 31 years. 

He that goeth on his way weeping & 
beareth good Seed shall doubtless come again 
with Joy brigning his Sheaves with him." 

Mary Rapell Atkins married George, 
son of George and Catherine (Gore) 
Searle, in 1779. This lady was named 
for a Wainright, daughter of Mrs. Jo- 
seph A'tkins, who married Judge Ra- 
pell, an Englishmen, judge of the Su- 
l^erior court, and judge of the Admir- 
alty for these Provinces, in the time of 
George 2d. It is said he never had 
but one decision reversed during forty 
years. 

Hannah Atkins died Sept. 25, 1771, 
in the 15th year of her age. 

Katherine Atkins married Samuel 
Elliot of Boston ; she was the ancest- 
ress of Samuel Elliot, president of Har- 
vard University, and other distinguished 
persons. 

Rebecca Atkins died June 23, 1842, 
unmarried. 

In 1788, Dudley A. Tyng, esq., pur- 
chased the present Tyng estate on 
High street for his mother, to which she 
removed with her daughter Rebecca. 

Mrs. George Searle, having become 
a widow with ten orphan children, took 
her mother's store on State street, which 
she kept until after the fire of 1811. 
Mrs. Margaret Curson of Curson's mill 
was her daughter. 

Dudley Atkins Tyng fitted for college 
at Dummer academy, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1781, and studied law with 
Judge Parsons in Newbinyport. In 
1795, he was appointed by Adams, 
Collector of the district of Newbury- 
port. For some years he was Record- 
er of the Supreme Court of Massachu- 
setts ; during this period he resided in 
Camlnidge, but Newbur3'port was his 
favorite abode, and most of his sum- 



168 



REMIXISCEN'CES 



mers were passed here. He first mar- 
ried Sarah, daughter of Stephen Higgiii- 
son of Boston ; second, her sister Elis- 
abeth. Madam Sarah (Kent) Atkins 
died on the 16th of October, 1810, 
aged 81. In 1821, Squire Tyug built 
the lower of the two Tyng houses for his 
sister Rebecca, and having remodelled 
and enlarged the other mansion, in the 
autumn of that year he returned to 
Newburyport, which was his permanent 
reisdence until his death on Aug. 1, 
1829, aged 69. Dudley A. Tyng, like 
his father and grand-father, was an ac- 
tive and l^eneficent member of St. Paul's 
church, filling the office of warden for 
some years. He gave a silver paten 
for the communion service, which bears 
this inscription : 

PRESENTED BY HON. D. A. TYNG, ESQ. 

In 1790, Hon. T. Daltou and D. A. 
Tyng, esq., were chosen lay delegates 
to a convention at Salem, to prepare 
an Ecclesiastical constitution for JMas- 
sachusetts, which was adopted by St. 
Paul's church, Jan. 16. 1791 ; the same 
delegates with Hon. Jona. Jackson 
and Mr. Lewis Jenkins were a commit- 
tee to ratify the same at the next con- 
vention in Boston. 

Dudley A. and Sarah Tyng had eight 
children : Sarah, who married first, 
Charles Head ; second, Joseph ]Mar- 
quand. Susan C , married Edward A. 
Newton ; Dudley, who died in infan- 
cy ; a second Dudley, who took the 
name of Atkins. 

Dr. Dudley Tyng Atkins graduated 
at Harvard in 1816, and studied medi- 
cine. He married Ann, daughter of 
Judge Bowman of Wilksbarre, Pa. 
For a time was practising physician in 
Newburj'port, afterwards went to the 
city of New York, where he died 
April 7, 1845. 



The Rev. Stephen Higginson T3'ng, 
graduated at Harvard in 1817 ; was 
professor at Jefterson college, set- 
tled in Philadelphia, but .for more 
than forty years had been the distin- 
guished rector of St. George's Church, 
New York. He has now retired from 
the active duties of the ministry. He 
married, first, Anna, daughter of Bish- 
op Griswold ; second, Susan, daughter 
of John Mitchell, of Philadelphia. 

Charles died June 20, 1879, aged 78. 
He was a successful ship master, and 
merchant ; was for many years estab- 
lished at Havana, Island of Cuba, 
where he endeared hinself, b}' his 
hearty sympathj', and benevolence, to 
his countrymen there. He married, 
first, Anna Selina Anold, who died 
July 5, 1831, aged 25 ; second, AnnaA., 
daughter of John H. ]Mc Alpine, of 
New York. The McAlpines are of 
the oldest of the Highland Clans, dat- 
ing back to Kenneth McAlpine. Feb. 
6, in the year eight hundred and thir- 
ty six. 

Mary, married Robert Cross, esq. 
She died some ^^ears since. 

James, graduated at Bowdoin in 
1827, studied for the ministry, for 
many years was a rector in New York. 
He married Matilda Degan, and died 
April r>, 1879. 

George Tyng, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1822.' and died April 2, 1823, 
aged 25. 

Many of my readers will remember 
the genial, and hospitable Miss Re- 
becca Atkins, aunt Beck}', as she was 
usuall}' styled, and her pleasant home. 
Her house, and that of Squire Tyng 
have been modernized, but most of the 
ancient heir-looms, that formel}' graced 
them, are still retained. Amongst 
these are fine portraits of Joseph At- 



\ 



OF A NOI^AGEIN^AEIAl^. 



169 



kins, esq. and Mary Dudlev, his sec- 
ond wife, and a painting, representing 
tlie visit of Queen Ann and the Royal 
Family- to the man of war, of whicli 
young Atkins was Lieutenant, a new 
vessel, then considered a model craft. 
This picture Capt. Atkins brought to 
America, and he held it in such esti- 
mation as to bequeath it in his will, as 
a special legac}- to be transmitted from 
his son, and son's son, through the 
generations. 

Capt. Joseph Atkins, the second son 
of Joseph Atkins, esq., died a bachelor, 
Feb. 6, 1782, aged 7G. 

William Atkins, esq., the oldest son, 
was a prominent merchant and citizen, 
and an active member and warden of 
St. Paul's church. His name stands 
first on the list of two hundred and six 
of the "water side" people who signed 
the petition to be "set off from New- 
bur}-, and incorporated as a town by 
themselves," and, in direct contradis- 
tinction to his half-brother, Dudle}', 
was an active Whig, and enthusiastic 
Revolutionist, being one of the Com- 
mittee of Safet}' and Correspondence 
appointed by the town on the 23d of 
September, 1774. Before leaving Eng- 
land, he had married Abigail Beck, b}^ 
whom he had one sou and four daugh- 
ters. He built a house near where 
the present custom house now stands, 
a handsome Colonial mansion, with 
wainscotted rooms, deep window seats, 
broad stone hearths, and fire-places 
decorated with Dutch tiles depicting 
Scripture scenes. At his death this 
house was purchased by the father of 
Captains John and Benjamin Harrod ; 
there they and their sisters were born. 
It was burned in the gTcat fire of 1811, 
then known as the Harrod house. The 
Atkins family and their widowed sister, 



Mrs. Dr. Samuel Colman, and her 
children, at that time resided opposite ; 
their house was also burned. 

William Atkins, esq., died Aug. 27, 
1788, aged 77. 

Mrs. Abigail Atkins died Dec. 5, 
1786, aged 68. 

Miss Mary Atkins died Aug. 31, 
1802, aged 64. 

Hannah C. Atkins died June 6, 1811, 
aged 57. 

Elisabeth Atkins died July 30, 1838, 
aged 88. 

Susanna (Atkins) Colman died in 
Salem, July 9, 1827, aged 65. 

William Atkins, the only son, was 
lost at sea. 

The Atkins arms are : 




OK, A CKOSS QUARTERLY PIKRCED FLORT AND COXJNT- 

ER FLOliY, azure; BETWEEN FOUR MULLETS 

sable; CRESCENT, GULES, IN CHIEF. 

CREST — TWO GREYHOUNDS HEADS 

ENBOSSED, COLLAR DOVETAILED, 

PER PALE OR AND AZURE, 

COUNTERCHANGED. 



22 



170 



REMINISCENCES 



Dudley and Tyug per pale. Dud- 
le}' — Or, lion rampant. Tyng — Ar- 
gent, on a chevron sable three martlets 
proper. Crest — a martlet. 

Motto — "Esse quam videri." 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 

At the trying period of the Revolu- 
tion, Newbury and Newburyport dis- 
played great heroism. At the first in- 
telligence of the battle of Lexington, 
four companies immediately marched to 
the scene of action. Those from New- 
bury were commanded In- Colonel 
Samnel Gerrish and Colonel Moses 
Little. The Newburyport companies 
were led by ('apt. Ezra Lunt and 
Colonel Benjamin Perkins. On a 
stormy day, as we sat at our work, 
grandmother, aunt Sarah and mother 
often recalled those stirring times, and 
of a winter's evening my father and 
other friends frequently talked over the 
events of the war. My father was an 
excellent singer, and he was often in- 
vited to sing the songs that had then 



been popular. Two of these "The 
Vision" and --Burgoyne's Lamenta- 
tion," I will note ; would that I could 
give the voice, expression, and enthus- 
iasm of the singer. 

THE VISION. 
"I was an old farmer, 

Was born in the woods, 
Of late had a vision 

From one of the gods. 

"Last Saturday niglit, 
As I f^lept on my bed, 
The following dream 
Came into my head: 

"I thought I was towering 

Aloft in the air, 
Then rambled to Boston 

To see wliat was there. 

"First viewing the troops. 
Which weie tired of intrenching, 

Then going to see Tom, 
Who was giddy with drinking. 

"For of wine, gin and ale 

So freely he drank, 
Tliat lie was scarce able- 

To visit his rank. 

"His friends were all round him, 

And if you think fitting, 
I'll tell you the posture 

The club was now sitting. 

"Tliere were Tim, Dick and Will, 

And several more ; 
I thought in the whole, 

They would make nigh a score. 

"Set round a large tabic. 

But all at a pause. 
To think of a plan 

To enforce these new laws, 

"I wondered at this, 

And asking old Beetle, 
For knowing the villain 

Was apt for to tattle; 

"He honestly told me 

What was the reasoti. 
The Devil, says he, 

Has gone for a season, 

"To help his friend North 
Project a new plan, . 



OF A N'0]S'AGE:N-AEIAI^. 



171 



And when this is done, 
We expect him again ; 

"But if he should choose 

For to tarry all winter, 
We think it not safe, 

Out of Boston to venture. 

For the Congress has met, 

And passed such votes, 
That all our old plans 

Are now come to nought. 

"And the governor says, 

So well do unite, 
He believes tlie devilish villains 

Determined to fight, 

"And think it not best 
To provoke them to blows. 

Lest in a cold winter, 
The harbor gets froze ; 

"And if they sliould come over us, 
Our fleet could not save us. 

Of consequence. 

The Devil must have us. 

"Many such stories 

He did me detain, 
Till Tom got so well 

He could stagger again. 

"And laying his course 

For crossing the hall, 
He luckily met 

Wiih an impudent fall, 

"Which brought him at last, 
Two yards on the floor, 
', Which tickled me so, 

I dreamed no more." 

BTJRGOYNE'S LAMENTATION. 

"Ye powers look down and pity my case, 
For the once great Burgoyne is now in dis- 
: tress. 

For I am surrounded by a numerous foe, 
Who, I fear, my whole army will soon over- 

tlirow. 
"Oh, cursed be the villain who did us much 

hurt. 
Who carried to England so false a report. 
For it is commonly reported in fair England, 
That the sight of a Briton would make Yan- 
kees run, 

"That the report of a cannon would make 
Yankees fly. 



"Oh, were they as numerous as stars in the 

sky. 
To my woful experience I found it was false, 
For of two, the Yankees are better than us. 
"They will fight witli great valor when in the 

open field. 
Take them in the forest, then Britons must 

yield. 
For they will shut up one eye, and squint at 

the gun. 
And we are surely dead as soon as that's done. 
We stand no more chance among Yankee 

paws. 
Than to fling an old cat into hell without 

claws." 

On the arrival of the "courier" with 
news of the Lexington fight, the min- 
ute men of the upper parish quicldy 
gathered at the training field on the 
main road. The compan}' having been 
formed, boards were thrown over an 
ox-cart ; from this hastily improvised 
rostrum, Parson Toppau spoke a few 
words of patriotism and encouragement, 
then invoked the Divine blessing upon 
the gallant band. Meantime individu- 
als were going from house to house, 
collecting food and other necessaries. 
The news came at midnight, and soon 
after sunrise the compau}' commenced 
its march; the rations, baggage, etc., 
being conve3'(id by two ox-teams. One 
can imagine the sensation throughout 
the usuall}^ quiet country side. The 
sorrowful faces and anxious hearts, 
prayerfully striving to bear the worst 
bravely, for the sake of country and 
liber t}'. 

By order of the selectmen on the 
following day, a further suppl}- of pro- 
visions was forwarded to the troops. 
Every household contributed, and the 
donations were most generous. The 
da}^ had been a busy one at Crane- 
neck ; the large and small ovens had 
been filled and refilled ; beef, pork, 
hams, flour, meal and a small supply 



172 



EEMTN'ISCEN-CES 



of groceries and medicines, been pack- 
ed ; lint been scraped and bandages 
rolled. This was sad work, but pro- 
vision must be made for the worst. It 
was near sunset when aunt Sarah, 
(then a girl of sixteen,) on her way to 
the well, espied a horseman coming 
at a furious pace up the road, swinging 
his hat and shouting : "The regulars ai-e 
coming ! Thej^ have landed at Plum 
Island, have got to Artichoke bridge, 
are burning and killing all before them ! " 
For an instant the maiden stood in 
finghtened bewilderment, then she ran 
to communicate the news. The neigh- 
bors flocked in, a terror stricken 
throng, to counsel respecting further 
measures. Most of tlie able bodied 
men armed themselves and went to 
seek the foe, if foe were there. After 
the first excitement had passed, doubts 
of the genuineness of the tidings arose. 
Neither ii\y grandfather Smith, nor 
grandsir Little credited the story, and 
they advised every one, after the men 
had marched away to stay quietly at 
home until further intelligence could be 
obtained. A few did so, but most, in 
a perfect frenz}' of friglit, sought every 
means for safety. 

Uncle Thurrel's farm at that time be- 
longed to the family of the late Dr. 
Adams. This gentleman had been the 
first physician to settle in the town : he 
acquired a wide spread practice in the 
surroundino- infant settlements, and at 
his decease left a reputation for superi- 
or knowledge and skill. The house 
was occupied by his grandehil Iren, 
and their aged and feeble widowed 
mother. This h(jusehold passed the 
night in the greatest anxiety and 
alarm. Having hidden their choicest 
effects, the horse was harnessed to the 
chaise, an uncovered \'ehicle on two 



wheels, at that time the stylish equip- 
age for ladies, which was drawn up 
before the door through the night, 
while the old lady, wrapped in a cover- 
let sat through the long hours in her 
large arm chair, in readiness to be con- 
veyed down "South End," a rocky, 
steep declivity at the southerly side of 
the hill, a descent from which one 
might have expected as dire a catas- 
trophe, as from a raid of any number 
of "regulars." 

Old Mr. Joshua Bartlett, commonly 
designated "Uncle Vun," ^'oked his 
oxen to the cart, and took his family 
to the Platts place, a lone, unoccupied 
farm-house, remote from the road. 
Several families sought the same ref- 
uge. Col. Stephen Bartlett was an in- 
fant just weaned ; in the fiurry the jug 
of milk had been left behind, and the 
hungry babe demanded his food so lus- 
tily', that some one in the distracted 
throng proposed to kill him, lest his 
cries should disclose their hiding place. 

Hannah Eastman, an old, asthma- 
tic woman, breathed so hard, she was 
wrapped in a blanket and buried in the 
leaves under a stone wall, at some dis- 
tance from the house. After a sleep- 
less night, at sunrise the croud ven- 
tured home. One 3'oung fellow, in- 
stead of marching to meet the "regu- 
lars," skedaddled into the pasture, 
having armed himself with a junk of 
salt pork, and half a loaf brown bread, 
in addition to his gun and powder 
horn ; he climbed into an oak, and 
quakingl}' awaited events. The night 
wore on, da}- dawned, the sun rose, 
ascended higher and higher, noon 
passed, still the young hero durst not 
venture from his sylvan retreat, until 
his absence having created a general 
alarm, he Avas descried by a squad of 



OF A ]SrOirAGE:N-AJlIAN-. 



173 



relatives and neighbors who had insti- 
tuted a search. 

One gentleman hid his papers in a 
hollow tree from which they were ex- 
tracted with much difficulty ; his wife 
lowered her silver spoons into, the well, 
and the servant girl, beside herself with 
fright, pulled the "nubs and drops" 
from her ears and flung them into the 
same receptacle. The spoons were re- 
covered, but the ear jewels could never 
be found. It was an anxious and 
sleepless night for all. I have often 
heard Mrs. Moses Colman, tlien Bett}' 
Little, a girl of nine, relate how she 
fancied the wind in the chimne}', and 
the sizzling of the wood fire, were the 
drums and fifes of the eneni}'. Towards 
morning the men and boys returned, 
without sight or hearing of "regulars." 
How this scare arose was never known, 
but it was supposed to have been a 
strategem to try the mettle of the peo- 
ple. 

Anxious weeks, which had brought 
but few tidings from the ami}' around 
Boston, had glided away. The morn- 
ing of the seventeenth of June dawned, 
a hot summer day. The spring had 
been uncommonly warm, raid vegeta- 
tion was unusually forward. In those 
days it was the custoin to have men's 
garments made at houi i. TailofT.-'alm- 
er, a veteran of the old French war, 
came to Capt. Smith's tliat day to fash- 
ion the go-to-meeting coats and breeches 
for the summer. Aunt Sarah was sew- 
ing with the tailoj% when her ear caught 
a rumble. "Did it thunder?" 81ie 
rose and looked from the door. Not a 
cloud was in sight. Again and again 
she caught the sound a^^ of distant 
thunder. The men came from the field 
to luncheon, but patised to look and 
listen. "I'll tell 3'e what 'tis," said the 



tailor, "its big gtms, cannon. There's 
a bat'tle." The noise increased, and it 
was evident the old soldier was right. 
Soon smoke was discerned on the 
southern sky, which momentarily in- 
creased in volume. It was thought 
that Boston was burning. Higher and 
higher rose the smoke, louder thundered 
the cannon, work was forgotten, the 
dinner remained untasted. People be- 
gan to flock up the hill, in groups the}' 
watched and listened. Slowly the lurid 
sun sank in the sky, gradually the boom 
of the guns ceased, the smoke cleared, 
and all was over. Nothing cotild be 
done but to await intelligence, with 
what calmness and patience could be 
summoned. The news of the battle of 
Bunker Hill, and the burning of Charles- 
town was received the next da^', but 
the full particulars did not come for 
more than a week. I believe no one in 
our companies were killed, a few were 
wounded. Col. Joseph Whitmore and 
Sergeant Amos Pearson of Newbury- 
port were wounded, and several men 
killed. Capt. Ezra Lunt's company, 
acting as rear guard, suffered severeh-. 
Quite a number from the four com- 
panies that fought at Bunker Hill 
joined the disastrous expedition against 
Quebec, the September following. This 
force consisted of eleven companies of 
musketmen and three companies of 
riflemen, amounting to eleven hundred 
men, under the command of Col. Ben- 
edict Arnold, Lieut. -Colonel Christo- 
pher Green of Rhode Island, and Ma- 
jor Timothy Bigelow of Massachusetts. 
The Newbury- and Newburj^port men 
were in Capt. Ward's company. The 
riflemen were commanded by' Capt. 
Daniel Morgan. The Rev. Samuel 
Spring, afterwards the distinguished 
pastor of the North church in Newbury- 



174 



EEMINISCEN'CES 



port, acted as chaplain. Many noted 
men accompanied this band ; INIatOiew 
Ogden. Aaron Burr, John I. Henry, af- 
terwards Judge Henry of Pennsylva- 
nia ; Captain, afterwards Gen. Henry 
Dearborn of New Hampshire ; Major 
Return I. Meigs, Captains William 
Kendricks and Matthew Smith, with 
others whose names have descended 
amongst the Revolutionar}' heroes. The 
detachment arrived in Newburyport 
Saturday, Sept. 16th, and embarked at 
10 a. m. on Tuesday', the 19lh, in elev- 
en transports, sloops and schooners. 
The troops were quartered in the rope- 
walk of Edmund Swett, which extend- 
ed from Fair to Federal streets ; the 
riflemen bivouacked at the head of 
Rolfe's lane, now Ocean avenue, and 
the officers were entertained at the spa- 
cious and hospitable mansions of Isa- 
thaniel Tracy and Tristram Dalton. 

This was a notable epoch for New- 
buryport. The short sojourn of the 
arm}' was made a season of gaiety. 
The sunn}- side, with all the pomp and 
pageantr}- of war. 

On Sunday, the troops, with drums 
rolling and flags fl^'ing, marched to the 
Old South meeting house. This had 
been completed but a few years, and 
was the largest and one of the finest 
places of public worship in New Eng- 
land. The high pulpit and elaborately- 
ornamented sounding board were cele- 
brated specimens of the st3de of the 
period. To the right of the sacred 
desk was a high seat for the sexton, 
and before it the " elders' seat," a 
square pew, raised a few steps, with a 
table in the centre. In front of this 
came tlie " deacon's seat." To this 
was attached the communion tal)le, 
which was swung back when not in 
use. A broad aisle and two side aisles 



ran through the house. The pews were 
square, with seats all around and a 
chair in the centre. Spacious galleries 
ran around three sides of the house, 
the '-singing seats " being opposite the 
pulpit, and at either end there were 
large porches. 

The troops, having halted in the 
aisles, presented arms as their chaplain, 
a keen-ej'ed. stalwart young fellow, six 
feet high, passed through. The guns 
having been stacked iu the aisles, 
the soldiers were seated in the body of 
the house, the galleries and ever}^ other 
available portion being packed by a 
crowd of citizens. The clerg^'man 
preached fromthe text, "Tf th}- Spirit 
go not up with us, carry us not up 
hence." The eloquence and power of 
the preacher made such an impression 
on his audience, that before he left, a 
promise had been secured that he 
would return to the town, at the end 
of the war. This promise was re- 
deemed, and the South church and the 
Rev. Dr. Samuel Spring, became 
watchwords iipon the hill of Zion. 
The following morning there was a 
grand review, in which the men ap- 
peared to great advantage, their spir- 
its being raised b}' the presence of hun- 
dreds of sj^mpathizing spectators, 
drawn thither from far and near. The 
officers were entertained at dinner and 
evening parties, at which majestic mat- 
rons and lovel}' maidens, in their rich- 
est brocades, and choicest gauzes and 
laces, conversed most graciously and 
smiled their sweetest, using every ex- 
ertion for the amusement of the gallant 
men, about to risk their lives on the 
altar of libert}-. In friendly courtesy, 
glass clinked to glass with fervent 
wishes for honor and success. Grace- 
fully the stately minuet was danced. 



OF A NONAGENARIAN. 



175 



Enthusiastically, patriotic songs were 
sung to the accompaniment of the spin- 
net or harpsicord. On the morning of 
the nineteenth, amid cheer upon cheer 
from the assembled multitude, the 
troops embarked. In a perfect whirl- 
wind of patriotic excitement, flags fly- 
ing, drums beating and fifes playing, 
the transports weighed anchor, their 
sails gleaming in the bright sunlight ; 
they slowly glided down the broad, 
beautiful Merrimac, and with aching- 
hearts, but a brave front, the citizens 
dispersed, to pursue again the even 
tenor of life. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

From the settlement of the town, 
ship-building had been one of the chief 
employments of the "'water side peo- 
ple." Prior to the revolution, this bus- 
iness had been very lucrative. Though 
man}' of the vessels launched at our 
yards were owned and fitted for sea 
b}- the "Port" merchants, others were 
built expressl3' for the English market. 
The British merchants purchased our 
ships and lumber ; in return we re- 
ceived their manufactures, and the 
produce from their possessions in the 
West Indies. As Newbury port was 
the centre for the trade of a wide agri- 
cultural district, it had become one of 
the most thriving of the sea-board 
towns. 

Partnerships often existed between 
our merchants and individuals in Eng- 
land. Mr. Benjamin Harris and an 
English gentleman, Mr. Witter Cum- 
mings, built a ship at Samuel Mogga- 



ridge's 3'ard, shortl}- before the war. 
At the commencement of the troubles, 
much of our merchant marine was sent 
out as privateers. Some of these were 
most successful, fulh' repaying their 
owners for the business lost b}' the war. 
So many prizes within a few days were 
brought in to Mr. Joseph Marquand, 
that in the press of the occasion, that 
gentleman hastily exclaimed, "Oh Lord ! 
Thy servant has enough ; stay thy 
hand." His prayer was answered, 
for with subsequent losses, and the 
great lire, the rich merchant died a 
comparativeh' poor man. 

Many of the vessels cleared from the 
port were either lost at sea or taken by 
the enemy. The fate of several with 
that of their crews was never known. 
The loss of one, the "Yankee Hero," 
carrying twenty guns, commanded by 
Capt. James Trac}^, brought mourning 
throughout the town, as out of one 
hundred and seventy men, fifty were 
from Newburyport and vicinitj-, volun- 
teers from some of the first families. 

Those so unfortunate as to fall into 
the enemy's hands, suffered great hard- 
ship in the loathsome English prisons 
and prison ships. The crews of the 
brig Dalton, fitted out by Stephen 
Hooper, and the brigantine Fanny, 
were confined between two and three 
years, in the Old Mill prison in Ply 
mouth. 

Man}- of the privateers were of small 
burthen, and but poorly armed ; still 
this hastily improvised navy did good 
service, making many notable captures, 
and carrying havoc to the enemy's 
fleet. 

The following is the commission of 
the commander of one of these ves- 
sels : 



176 



reminisce:n'ces 



COLONY OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY. 

The Major of the Council of the 
Massachusetts Ba}', New England. 
To John Wiggles worth, Gentleman. 
Greeting. 

You being ap})ointecl to take the 
James Bowdoin AVinthrop, Command 
Kich'd Derby jr. of the armed Sloop 
J. Cnshing called the Swift, of the 

S. Holton burthen of thirty-five 

Jabez Fisher tons, or thereabouts, 
Moses Gill mounting four swivels 

B. White & one carriage Gun, 

Benj. Austin and navigated by ten 
Henry Gardener men, fitted out at the 
W. Phillips expense, & for the 

Dan. Davis service of this Colony. 

B. Lincoln By virtue of the pow- 

Dan. Hopkins er vested in us, we do 
by these presents (reposing special 
trust and confidence in your ability, 
courage, and good conduct,) commis- 
sion you accordingly, and give you. tlie 
said John Wiggles worth, full power 
with such persons as shall engage to 
3'our assistance, b}' iCoi'ce of arms to 
attack, seize, and take the Ships, and 
other Vessels belonging to the inhabi- 
tants of Great Britain, or am' of them 
with Tackel. Apparel, furniture & Lad- 
ing on the high seas, or between high 
water and low water mark, and to 
bring the same to some convenient Port 
in this colony, in order that the courts, 
which have been, or shall be hereafter 
appointed to hear & determine maiitime 
causes, may proceed in due form to 
condemn the said Captaines if they be 
adjudged lawful Prize, the said John 
Wigglesworth having given bonds to 
the Treasurer of this Colony with suffi- 
cient Sureties that nothing be done by 
the said John Wigglesworth or any of 
his Officers, Marines, or Company of 
the said Vessel contrary^ to, or incon- 
sistant with the usage and customs of 
Nations, and the instructions that are 
or may be given to him by order of the 
Great and General Court. And we 
will, and require all our officers to give 
Succour and assistance to the said John 
Wigglesworth in the premises. This 
commission to continue in force until 
further orders. 



Given under our hands and Seal of 
the said colony at Watertown, the third 
day of June in the year of our LORD, 
one thousand seven hundred and sev- 
enty-six. 

B\- their Honor's Command. 

Of the Newbmyport vessels, a large 
number were sent out b}^ Messrs. Na- 
thaniel and John Tracy. Their ships 
captui-ed one hundred and twenty sail, 
which, with their cargoes, brought three 
million, nine hundred and fift}- thousand 
dollars. Of this sum, one hundred and 
sixty-seven thousand, two hundred and 
nineteen dollars, was devoted to the 
army and other public exigencies. Out 
of one hundred and ten merchant ves- 
sels, twenty-three of which were let- 
ters-of-marque, only thirteen, and, of 
twenty-four cruisers, but one. remained 
at the close of the war ; all the others 
had been lost or captured. The ship 
Friends, Capt. Bowie, of London, bound 
to Boston with provisions for the Brit- 
ish army, having mistaken her course, 
on the morning of the 15th of Januar}- 
was discovered oft' the "Bar." Three 
whale boats manned by' armed men, 
commanded by Capt. Offin Boardman, 
immediately put out to her. Captain 
Boardman, representing himself as a 
pilot from Boston, was taken on board. 
Whilst the unsuspecting English cap- 
tain was conversing with the supposed 
pilot on the quarter-deck, the crews 
from the three boats, seventeen in num- 
ber, quietly ascended the gangway. See- 
ing all was ready, Capt. Boardman in 
stentorian tones ordered the English 
flag to be struck. Overcome by aston- 
ishment, neither the commander nor 
crew made the least resistance, and the 
prize was brought in triumph to the 
wharf. 

The ship Hibernia, owned by Cap- 
tains Joseph and John O'Brien, and 



OF A NOXAGEJ^AHIAiq^. 



177 



coiniiianded by the latter, -was yeiy 
.successful. Ou her first cruise she cap- 
tured three brigs, a ship, and two 
schooners, in less than four weeks. In 
this cruise she met with a sixteen-gun 
ship, with which she had an engage- 
ment that lasted nearlj' two hours, but 
from which she finall}- escaped, with 
the loss of three men and several 
Avounded. 

Capt. William Russell, in the Gen. 
Ward, a small vessel, mounting one 
light swivel, with about a dozen men, 
each armed with a musket, captured 
two bi'igs and a schooner. Onty two 
men could be spared to be put on board 
the schooner, and she was retaken, but 
the brigs were brought safely into 
town. The privateer Hawk, Captain 
Jack Lee, sent in an English brig from 
Oporto, loaded with wine, and a large 
amount of specie. Captain Moses 
Brown, in the privateer Gen. Arnold, 
took several rich prizes, but was at 
length captured b}^ the British brig Ex- 
periment, of fifty guns. Capt. Brown 
was for some time confined on board a 
prison ship at Savannah. Georgia, but 
was exchanged, and returned to New- 
bur vport. 

On Ma^-lO, 1780, occurred that phe- 
nomenon, commonly called the "Dark 
da}'." There had been extensive fires 
in the woods, and for several da3's pre- 
vious the air had been thick, and the 
sky murky. On the memorable nine- 
teenth, the sun rose as usual, but soon 
clouds began to appear and the whole 
sk}' became overcast ; about ten o'clock 
there was a slight shower. My mother, 
then thu-teen years of age, had gone to 
the garret to give it the spring cleaning. 
At first she thought a thunder shower 
was rising, but the increp,sing dark- 
ness, and the singular aspect without. 



caused her to leave her work, and in 
somewhat of a panic join the family 
below. Dense, black clouds overspread 
the heavens with a lighter gleam at the 
horizon ; the fowls went to roost, and 
the birds fiew into the trees. The 
darkness was the most intense between 
twelve and one o'clock. Candles were 
lighted for the dinner table, and the 
meal was shorter and more silent than 
usual. Both graudsir and grandma'm 
Little were quiet, firm people ; there 
was no undue excitement in their 
household, still it was a strange, and 
somewhat solemn day. Man}^ families 
were in a perfect frenzy. " The Judg- 
ment Day had come," and amid tears 
and piteous lamentations and confes- 
sions, with prayer and Bible reading, the 
frightened creatures tremblingly passed 
the hours, momentarily expecting that 
the dread trump would sound. The 
darkness continued into the night, but 
the following morning the sun rose 
bright and the air had resumed its 
usual clearness. 

A while after, the inhabitants of the 
upper parish had another fright. Mr. 
Enos Bartlett, at the Training Field, 
had a load of bricks to draw to Bj^field. 
The weather was intensely hot, and he 
started soon after midnight. The cart 
wheels were drj-, needed greasing ; 
they soon began to creak. The noise 
increased, until it blended into a series 
of unearthly creaks and grinds . Along 
the route ever}- one was aroused, half 
unconscious, and unable to understand 
the diaboUcal sounds, most were terri- 
bly frightened. As it was a still night, 
the noise reached quite a distance, and 
what it was could not be imagined. 
Some thinking the last day had come, 
fell to praying and reading their bibles. 
When Mr. Bai:tlett reached the Isrook 
23 



178 



REMINISCENCES 



aljovo graudsir Little's, lie drove 
through the water, thus ending the noise 
and commotion. I have often heard 
aunt Hannah describe the fright of 
herself and the other children, roused 
from sound sleep, but grandma'm hav- 
ing ascertained the source of the dis- 
cord, Avent about and quieted her flock, 
and thereafter she would never permit 
her girls to laugh at their more credu- 
lous neighbors, bidding them, '-to so 
live that at an}' moment the judg- 
ment might find them ready to gi\'e a 
good account." 

The depreciation of the paper mon- 
ey issued by congress to meet the exi- 
gencies of the war for a time caused 
general disorder in monetary arfairs, and 
in some instances great distress. By 
1780, the continental money had driv- 
en nearl}- all the gold and siher out of 
circulation, and this paper currency' 
lessened in value with such rapidit}- 
that in remote places, and where people 
were unacquainted with the money mar- 
ket, fraud could be easil}' perpetrated. 
In this wa}' Gen. John Peabodj-'s 
mother was cheated out of a large part 
of her late hus))and's estate. She sold 
the homestead for a good price, and 
received in full payment a whole trunk 
full of mone}', which to her utter 
amazement and dismay she learned 
was in reality not worth more than a 
third of its nominal value. When I 
was a child, I had several of these 
continental bills, with which I used to 
play shopping, and for j-ears my father 
kept one in his wallet as a memento, 
laughingly averring that so long as this 
bill was in his pocket he was not de- 
void of mone}'. Aunt Sarah had a 
calico dress, which cost a one hundred 
dollar bill, and a set of knitting nee- 
dles for which she paid a dollar. Mrs. 



IMoses Colniau, then Betty Little, paid 
one hundred and fifty dollars for suili- 
cient black silk to make a short cloak, 
a sort of mantilla, then fashionable for 
summer wear. She often laughingly 
boasted of her one expensive garment. 
/ In 1789, Washington on his eastern 
tour visited Newburyport. He came 
Friday-, Dec. 1, and remained until the 
next morning. 

In in}' childhood I often heard descrip- 
tions ofthe grandeur of his reception, and 
on a stormy Suudaj' I often conned the 
volumes of the "Essex Journal and New 
Hampshire Packet," of December 
fourth, which contained a full account 
of the proceedings. This was the first 
paper printed in the town, a Kepub- 
lican sheet, first published Dec. 4, 
1773, b}' Thomas and Tinges, and con- 
tinued by Ezra Lunt and John Mycall. 
The President came b^' the old Boston 
road, over the Parker river bridge, and 
through Oldtown. At the upper green 
he left his carriage, and mounted his 
horse. He had been met at Ipswieli 
and escorted hither, by Marshall Jack- 
son, the High SheriflT of the county of 
Essex, the Hon. lUstrani TDaltonT) 
Maj. (ieneral Titcomb, and other offi- 
cers and gentlemen from Newburyport 
and the surrounding towns, and two 
companies of cavalry from Ipswich 
and Andover. As the cortege moved 
on to High street, it was met near 
South, now Bromfield, b}' a long pro- 
cession. The Artiller}^ fired a Federal 
salute, and a company- of young men 
sang the following ode : 

"He comes , He comes ! The Hero comes ! 
Sound, Sound your trumpets, Beat, Beat 

your Drums. 
From port, to port, let cannons roar, 
His welcome to New England's shore. 

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome. 
Welcome to New England's shore! 

/ 
Prepare ! Prepare ! your Songs prepare, 



OE A ]^OI^AGE]SrARIAN^. 



179 



Loud, loudly rend the echoing air; 
From Pole to Pole, his praise resound, 
For Virtue is with glory crowned. 
Virtue, virtue, virtue, virtue, 
Virtue is with glory crowned." 

The lines in the first verse, which call 
for the l)eatiag of drums and roaring 
of cannon, were instant!}' obeyed, 
after tlie pronunciation of each word, 
and to the vocal was joined all the 
instrumental music in hoth choruses, 
which were repeated. Washington 
was exceedingl}^ pleased with this novel 
reception, moved even to tears. Next 
the President, preceded b}^ the several 
companies of Militia and Artiller}' of 
the town, the Musicians, Selectmen, 
High Sheriff and Marshall Jackson, 
passed the Ministers, Pln'sicians, Law- 
_yers, Magistrates, Town officers, Ma- 
rine Societ}^, Tradesmen and Manu- 
facturers, Captains of Vessels, Sailors, 
and School INfasters with their Scholars, 
who had paraded,, and opened to the 
riglit and left, each of whom as the 
President passed closed and joined in 
the procession, which was terminated 
by four Inmdred and twenty schohirs, 
all with quills in their hands, headed 
by their l^receptors. Their motto, 
"We are the free born subjects of the 
United States." This procession passed 
through High to State street conducting 
Washington to the residence of Nathan- 
iel Trac3% esq., where he was enter- 
tained in princely style. On his arri- 
val he was greeted with the follow- 
ing address, written by John Quincy 
Adams, then a student at law in the 
office of Theophilus Parsons, esq., who 
had been appointed by the town to 
prepare it. 

To the President of the United 
States : — Sir : When, by the unani- 
mous suffrages of jonv countrymen, 
you were called to preside over their 
public councils, the citizens of the town 



of Newburyport participated in the 
general joy that arose from anticipa- 
ting an administration conducted by 
the man to whose wisdom and valor 
the}' owed their liberties. Pleasing were 
their reflections, that he who, by the 
blessing of Heaven, had given them 
their independance, would again relin- 
quish the felicities of domestic retire- 
ment, to teach them its just value. 
They have seen you, victorious, leave 
the field, followed with the applause of 
a grateful country ; and they now see 
3'ou, entwining the Olive with the Lau- 
rel, and, in peace, giving security and 
happiness to a people, whom in war, 
3'ou covered with glory. At the pres- 
ent moment, they indulge themselves 
in sentiments of jo}', resulting from a 
principle, perhaps less elevated, but 
exceedingly dear to their hearts, from 
a gratification of their affections, in be- 
holding personal!}' among them, the 
Friend, the Benefactor, and the Father 
of their Country. 

They cannot hope. Sir, to exhibit 
any pecular marks of attachment to 
3'our person ; for, could thc}^ express 
their feelings of the most ardent and 
sincere gratitude, they would only re- 
peat the sentiments, which are deeply 
impressed upon the hearts of all their 
fellow citizens ; but, in justice to them- 
selves, the}' beg leave to assure you, 
that in no part of the United States 
are those sentiments of gratitude and 
affection more cordial and animated 
than in the town, which, at this time, 
is honored with your presence. 

Long, sir, may }'ou continue the or- 
nament and support of these States, 
and may the period be late, when you 
shall be called to receive a reward, ad- 
equate to your virtue, which it is not 
in the power of tliis country to bestow. 

The President replied as follows : 
"To the citizens of the town of New- 
buryport : — 

Gentlemen : The demonstrations of 
respect and affection which you are 
pleased to pay to an individual whose 
highest pretension is to rank as your 
fellow-citizen, are of a nature too dis- 



180 



KEMEN^ISCENCES 



tinguished not to claim the warmest re- 
turn that gratitude can make. 

M3' endeavors to be useful to mj" 
country have been no more than the 
result of conscious dut^y. Eegards like 
yours, would reward services of the 
highest estimation and sacrifice ; yet, 
it is due to my feelings, that I should 
tell 3'ou those regards are received with 
esteem, and replied to with sincerity. 

In visiting the town of Newburyport, 
I have obeved a favorite inclination, 
and I am much gratified by the indul- 
gence. In expressing a sincere wish 
for its prosperity, and the happiness 
of its inhabitants, I do justice to my 
own sentiments and their merit." 

A feu tie joie was fired b}' the mili- 
tia companies, and in the evening there 
was a display of fireworks. Saturda^'^ 
morning the President started for Ports- 
mouth, under the escort that conducted 
him into town, with the addition of a 
large number of military and other gen- 
tlemen of Newburyport, who accompa- 
nied him to the New Hampsliire line, 
where he was met by Gen. Sullivan, Gov- 
ernor of the State, with four companies 
of light-horse, who conducted him to 
Portsmouth. This was previous to the 
erection of the Essex Merrimac bridg(>, 
and WasJiington crossed the river at 
the j\mesbury i'Q.i'vj. The Marine so- 
ciety fitted and decorated a barge for 
that pui'pose. whicli was commanded 
b3' one their members, the bargemen 
being dressed in white. As the boat 
came midway the stream, a ship from 
Teneriffe, gaily adorned with flags and 
commanded by Captain Joseph A. de 
Murrietta, fired the salute of his nation, 
twenty-one guns. In Amesbur}' and 
Salisbury tlie militia were paraded, and 
saluted the President as he passed. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

The French Revolutio.'i, and the gen- 
eral confusion which reigned in Europe 
after the decapitation of Louis XVI, 
brought a large carrying trade to the 
seaports of the Union. Ameiican ship- 
ping was protected in the Texal, and 
the Empress Catherine granted us the 
freedom of the Baltic. A brisk trade 
was opened with the English, French, 
Spanish and Dutch possessions. 
Though Newbur^-port prospered from 
her foreign trade for a number of years, 
yet man}' heavy losses occurred, and 
much anno3-ance was experienced from 
the divers decrees of the belligerent 
powers. Under the pretext of recov- 
ering English deserters, Great Britain 
claimed the right of search. In the 
exercise of this disputed right, frequent 
seizures were made of what were called 
enem^-'s goods — goods shipped from 
some nation Avith whom she was at 
war. I'nder such pretexts, vessel and 
cargo were confiscated, or subjected to 
such delay and loss that the whole 
j>rofits of the voyage were absorl)ed. 
In addition to the English insults 
and injuries, the French, aggrieved 
at the refusal of the United States to 
form an alliance with them, at the same 
time affirming that we permitted British 
to take French goods out of our ships, 
adopted retaliator}- measures, and 
French privateers were fitted out to 
pre}' on our merchantmen. In 1798, 
the allied powers decreed that no ex- 
portation of provisions to France should 
be allowed, and they engaged to unite 
to prevent neutral nations from supply- 
ing her directlv or indirectlv. The 
Empress Catherine also requested the 
king of Sweden not to allow his sliips 
of wai' to conve}' merchantmen destined 



OF A NOI^^AGEI^AIIIAI^. 



181 



for France. Thus our commerce met 
with a continuation of entanglements. 

For several years war had been 
waged between Portugal and Algiers. 
Hithei'to, b}^ a powerful fleet, Portugal 
had confined the Algerine cruisers to 
the Mediterranean, but in September, 
1793, a truce was concluded between 
the Dey of Algiers and the King of 
Portugal. Thus the whole Algerine 
fleet was let loose to pre}' upon the 
commerce of the Atlantic. Many 
American vessels were captured, the 
crews robbed and reduced to slavery, 
with no hope of release unless ran- 
somed. 

In the summer of 1793, the brig 
PoUy, commanded by Capt. Samuel 
Bayley, a son of Mr. Samuel Bayley, 
one of the wealthiest merchants of 
Newlniryi)ort, was taken b}- an Alger- 
ine cruiser, while on a voyage from 
Baltimore to Cadiz. Several of the 
crew also belonged in the town and vi- 
cinity, and the news of their capture 
created a great sensation. Though I 
was then only six years old, I vividly 
remember the heart-rending tales which 
ni}' fatlier, on his return from town, 
market days, used to relate, as from 
time to time tidings of the stiflering cap- 
tives reached their friends. A large sum 
was raised for their ransom. The fam- 
ilies and friends of the prisoners con- 
tributed generoush^, and appeal was 
made in their behalf from the pulpits 
of the vaj'ious societies, and a contri- 
bution taken, the Sunday' preceding 
the Thanksgiving after their capture. 

The Bey of Algiers, thinking that 
our government, in its anxiety for the 
release of the prisoners, would acqui- 
esce in an}' demand, set such an exor- 
bitant price as their ransom that Con- 
gress, not wishing to encourage his 



piracy, demurred as to its pa3'ment ; 
Init in the December following their en- 
slavement, this crew, with those of oth- 
er American vessels, were furnished, 
through Mr. Skjolderbrand, the Swed- 
ish consul, with money and comforta- 
ble clothing : each captain and super- 
cargo receiving eight Spanish dollars 
per month, the mates six, and the sail- 
ors three each. 

Meantime negotiations for the release 
of our countrymen were continued 
through Daniel Humphre3's, esq., and 
Joseph Donaldson, jr., esq. At length, 
in July, 1796, through the zealous ef- 
forts of these gentlemen, and of Joel 
Barlow, esq., consul-general of the 
United States to Algiers, negotiations 
were closed and the prisoners set at 
liberty, but young Capt. Bayley was 
not permitted to return to his native 
shores. On the second day of his 
Jiomeward vo3'age he was attacked with 
the plague, from .which he died, after 
an illness of two da^'s. 

One of the mariners of the In-ig Polly 
was John Foss, a native of By field. 
After his return he published an ac- 
count of his captivity, which Avas ex- 
ceedingly interesting. At that time I 
had never seen a geograph}' — "Morse 
& Parish's" was a later production — 
and Mr. Foss's delineation of foreign 
places, the Mediterranean and Algiers, 
was my introduction to a knowledge of 
that part of the world. His descrip- 
tions of the bagnio where the men were 
confined, and the cruelty shown to the 
prisoners, who were treated as, slaves 
and compelled to perform severe tasks 
while heavily ironed, and subjected to 
the bastinado and other barbarities for 
the slightest offence, were touchingh' 
graphic. After three years' servitude, 
on the llth of Jul}', the prisoners were 



182 



REMrNlSCENCES 



called from the bagnio and conducted 
to the De}' to receive their passports, 
and at 9 a. m. they embarked on a 
ship belonging to a Jew, Mr. Baccri. 
On the 12th, received provisions and 
got ready for sea : on the 13th, stood 
to sea. On board were fort3'-eight Ne- 
apolitans that had been ransomed : that 
night one of these was taken sick with 
the plague ; this man was taken on 
shore b}" the harbor master. On the 
14th, another Neapolitan was taken 
sick ; he died on the 16th. On the 15th, 
Capt. Bayley was taken ill, and died on 
the 17th. Finding the plague raging 
to such a degree, the ship put into 
Marseilles. On the 8th of October, 
Mr. Foss sliipped as first mate on 
board the ship Fortune of Philadelphia, 
commanded by Capt. Michael Smith. 
On the 17th, sailed from Marseilles, 
bound to Bona in Algiers, where the 
vessel arrived on the 7th of December. 
On the 15th of January, 1799, again 
sailed for Marseilles : on the 2 Uh, was 
boarded b^'his Britannic Majesty's ship 
Pallas, treated politely, and permitted 
to proceed. February 5th, about nine 
leagnes from Marseilles, the ship was 
captured b\' his Britannic ]\rajest3''s 
ships Inconstant and Blanche, and or- 
dered to Porto Ferrajo in the island of 
Elba, where they arrived on the 15th, 
and were sent on shore on the 16th, 
and not allowed to stay on lioard tlie 
frigate unless they would enter his 
Britannic Maiest3"'s service. None were 
willing to do so. One man was im- 
pressed on board the Inconstant, and 
three others entered onboard the Union, 
a British transport ; the rest pi'ocured a 
passage for Leghorn, but having been 
roblied of their money and part of 
their clothes, they found it diflicult to 
subsist until the vessel was read}- to 



sail. They sailed for Leghorn on the 
23d. and arrived the next day, were 
kept in quarantine until the 5th of 
March, on which da}' Capt. Smith ar- 
rived from Porto Ferrajo, and sailed 
for Marseilles the 10th, with all the 
crew but Mr. Foss and Moses Brown 
of Newbuiyport, who were left sick in 
the hospital. On the 20th, Mr. Foss 
sailed from Leghorn in an open boat 
for Piombino in Naples. On his arriv- 
al he met Mr. Donaldson, the American 
consul, who had been instrumental in 
his deliverance from Algiers. In his 
compau}- he sailed for Porto Ferrajo, 
arriving the same evening. On the 
24th, they sailed for Leghorn, arriving 
on the 26th. 

On the second of April, Mr. Foss 
embarked as passenger on board the 
Mandonna del Rosario e san Yinccnzo 
S(eraro, of Ragusa, bound to Philadel- 
phia ; sailed on the 4th, and on the 11th, 
was captured b}- a Spanish privateer 
and carried into Barcelona ; was cleared 
on tlie 12th, and again sailed, but on 
the 20th, was again captured bj-aFrencli 
privateer, and carried into .Vlmeria. 
treated politely, and sailed on the 22d. 
On the 29th, the wind having been con- 
trary for several days, the}' ran into 
Malaya, where the}- remained until th<> 
21st of May. Again sailed on the 22d. 
On the same day was boarded by his 
Britannic Ma,jesty's ship Petteral, treat- 
ed well, and permitted to proceed. On 
the 23d, at 6 p. m. was boarded by two 
Spanish privateers and carried into 
Ceuta. ]Mr. Foss having struck one 
of the privateer's men with a sword, 
and wounded him on the arm, was put 
into a dnngeon, ironed hands and feet, 
where he was kept about an hour and 
a half. That same evening the vessel 
sailed for Philadelphia. On the 28th, 



OF A NON^AGEJfAllIA]^. 



183 



Wiis l)oarded by another Spanish pri- 
\ateer, and rol)bed of a quantity of 
provisions, and the greater part of the 
clothes of the crew and passengers. 
On the first of Jul}' was boarded by 
his Britannic Majesty's ship Wool- 
wich, were treated politeh', and per- 
mitted to proceed. Being short of 
provisions, endeavors were made to 
prociu'c a supph^ from the Woolwich, 
but she being also short none could l)e 
obtained. On the 24th, spoke the l)rig 
Jelfcrson fi'oni St. Croix, bound to 
Philadelphia, from whom provisions 
were obtained which were most thank- 
fully received, as for nearly forty days 
they had subsisted on one biscuit per 
day, witli oil and wine. On the •25tii, 
Mr. Foss arrived in riiiladelphia, 
where he was detained by indisposition 
until the 11th of August. He then 
took passage in the schooner Ja}', be- 
longing to Edgartown, bound to Bos- 
ton, David Smith commandiu'. He 
tirrived in Boston on the 17th. On the 
"i3, he reached Newburyport, and after 
such a terrible and varied experience, 
was restoi'ed to his family at Byfield. 

I have made this extract from Mr. 
Foss' journal, to show the peril and 
annoyance to which at that period our 
marine were subjected. 

Out of the nine persons who left 
Baltimore on the brig Folly, only four 
returned besides Mr. Foss. These were 
Michael Smith, the first mate, Benja- 
min Edwards, the second mate, and 
Moses Brown, mariner. The others 
all died of the plague. Capt. Samuel 
E. Bayley, whose ransom had been 
forwarded b}' his father, was a young 
man of much promise, universally be- 
loved and respected, and his sad fate 
was greatl}' deplored. Subjoined are 
some lines written by Capt. Bayley 



while a prisoner in Algiers. They were 
addressed to a young lady to whom he 
was betrothed : 

" To you, my friend, these lines I send, 
Though distant far from me; 
Though we're apart, ray acbing heart 
Is ever still with thee. 

To let thee know my grief and woe 

Is far beyond my art ; 
I can't express the sore distress 

That racks my pained heart. 

I mourn and weep while others sleep, 
My nights are tui-ned to day ; 

Wliile time runs on, and hope forlorn, 
And rest goes far away. 

I think of thee where'er I be, 

Of thy unhappy state: 
My thoughts and care are always there — 

On thee I contemplate. 

Though hard my fate and wretched state, 

I pray for a relief; 
That God would bless me in distress 

And mitigate my grief. 

Without neglect I shall respect 

My parents till I die ; 
Their tender care for my welfare 

Lives in my memory. 

I trust in God who liolds the rod 

And doth chastise in love; 
He can relieve the captive slave, 

And hear him from above." 

At this time imposters were often 
met, tramping from place to place, 
begging money, under the pretext of 
raising the ransom of a son or l)rother 
held in captivity' at Algiers. For years 
such persons were an annoyance ever}'- 
where, and often a terror to solitary 
people in lone countr}' houses. 



CFIAPTER XXXVI. 

The conflicts of the French Revolu- 
tion reached the French West Indian 
colonies with even more intense cruel- 
ties than in the mother country. One 
day one party was in power, th? next 



184 



REMDiTISCEN-CES 



the opposite. On all sides persons in 
authority were imprisoned and guillo- 
tined, their property- confiscatcHl, and 
their children outlawed. Many of the 
most wealthy and influential citizens 
became fugitives. As Xewlniryport 
had a large A\'^est Indian commerce, 
many of these exiles came thither. In 
Guadaloupe the hlood-thirsty mol) 
poured out upon the noble families the 
brutal passion of wild beasts. 'J'hc 
atrocities committed almost surpass be- 
lief. ]Mauy met the most horrible 
deaths ; a few were enabled to escape 
to neighboring islands in boats ; and 
about twent}' succeeded in getting on 
board of a brig })elonging in Newbury- 
port, which lay off the island, which ar- 
rived at that port in March, 1792. 
Among these exiles was St. Sauveur de 
Poj^eu. His eldest and j-oungest sons, 
Robert and St. Sauveur, were killed by 
the brutal mob of republicans ; 1)ut the 
father and three sons, Joseph Roch- 
mont, Montrape, Dupiton, and two 
daughters, escaped, and succeeded, af- 
ter great suffering, in getting on l)oard 
the Newburj-port brig. 

St. Sauveur de Po3en was a direct 
descendant from the Marquis Jean de 
Poven, who emigrated to the island of 
Guadaloupe in 1658. He inherited all 
the instincts and pride of the aristoc- 
racy of France, the class to which he 
belonged, and when the troublous times 
of the French Revolution came, they 
found him a staunch ro3'alist and an ar- 
dent defender of King Louis XVI. 
The loss of home, change of climate, 
grief and anxiety, was too much for 
the exile ; he passed awaj' onl}' a few 
months before Louis was beheaded, 
the king to whose cause he was so 
strongly attached, for which he sacri- 
ficed a home of luxury and ease. 



" Habitation Piton," five miles from 
the romantic village of St. Rose, is the 
point at which the French discovered 
the island. The plantation borders on 
the sea. A romantic ride by the shore 
brings the ' ' Habitation " to view on a 
small plateau, a little distance up the 
side of the mountain. Turning from 
the shore the road runs direct to the 
"Habitation," through a valley filled 
with sugar-cane. A broad avenue ter- 
minates the A'alley road, with rows of 
lofty palms on either side ; a Avinding 
way leads to the dwelling. This 
point presents a panorama of great 
beaut}-. The valley, widening as it re- 
cedes, is filled with luxuriant cane, 
which also covers the mountains far up 
their sides. Aboiit a mile from the 
shore, a circular rock called "English- 
man's head," rises from the water to 
the height of one hundred feet, and is 
the only object that breaks the surface 
of the broad ocean to the horizon ; in 
the distance two shadowy forms appear, 
the islands of Montserrat and Antigua, 
so indistinct and misty as not to break 
the horizon line. 

In a low, narrow vallej- in the old 
graveyard on burying hill, in Newbury- 
port, is a stone bearing this inscription : 

SACRED TO THE MEMOKY OF 

MK. POTEN DE ST. SAUVEUR, 

WHO FOR A LOXG TIME WAS 

■ AN INHABITANT & A REPUTABLE 

PLANTER OS THE ISLAND 

OF filXADULOUPE. 

DIED OCTOBER 14tH, 1792, 

AGED 52 YEARS. 

After a few years, when aftairs had 
become settled, several of the surviv- 
ing exiles returned to their homes. 
Amongst those that remained were Jo- 
seph Rochemont de Po3-en, de St. Sau- 
veur, (St. Sauveur indicated the branch 
of the famil}' to which he belonged), 



OF A NON^AGENARIAlsr. 



185 



and a sister who died in Baltimore. 
Tliis land of refuge had many attrac- 
tions for young Poyen. He never 
wearied of wandering up and down 
the shores of the beautiful Merrimac. 
Some twelve j-ears were spent in care- 
less, easy living, dividing his time be- 
tween the town, and the romantic villa- 
ges along the river's bank. At one of 
these, Rock's Bridge, (East Haverhill) , 
he at length passed most of his time. 
It is a singularly picturesque spot, and 
its natural beauties attracted the artistic 
e3-e of the sensitive 3'oung Frenchman. 
Here also he met the guiding star of 
his life, Sall^' Elliot, a handsome, bril- 
liant girl, a daughter of one of the 
oldest families of the place, and with 
the impetuous character of his race, he 
carried off and married his willing 
bride, in spite of the protest of her 
parents. In this village they settled, 
and children were born to them. Years 
passed, and grandchildren also came, 
and grew up to love the dear old man, 
whose delight it was to pla}' and dance 
with them ; he grew old in years but 
not in elasticity of spirit, and his life 
went out in glorious fullness, at a ripe 
old age. I well remember Sally Elliot ; 
she made Rochcmont de Poyen a most 
excellent wife ; and I vividh' recall the 
genial Frenchman ; a lithe, active man, 
a great fancier of horse flesh, always 
ready for a trade ; he and my grandsir 
Little frequently had dealings together. 
His fiddle was also ever at the service 
of the 3'oung folks. The beaux and 
belles of the main road were often in- 
debted to Mr. Poyen for the music at a 
social dance. Though irascible and 
impatient, he was the soul of wit and 
good humor, happy in making all 
around him happy. 



The Po^'en arms are 




GULES, A CHIEF AZURE, PEACOCK ON TERRACE VERT. 
TIIKEE MULLETS PROPER CREST — MARQUIS' 
CROWN, SUPPORTED BY TWO SAVAGES, 
DEXTER CLUB AT GROUND, SINIS- 
TER CLUB AT SHOULDER. 

With the fiTmily of St. Sauveur de 
Poyen came his nephew the Count Fran- 
cis de Vi'part, the son of a Count of the 
same name, and a grandson of the Mar- 
quis de Vipart. This 3'oung man re- 
mained in America, accompanying his 
cousin Joseph Rochemont de Po^^en in 
his wanderings upon the banks of the 
Merrimac, and with him located at the 
"Rocks." There he married another 
of the village belles and beauties, Mary 
Ingalls. The Ingalls famil}' through 
the Bradstreets, were connections of 
xxiy grandmother Little. Mary Ingalls 
possessed uncommon personal and men- 
tal attractions. Of medium height, hair 
in long golden curls, \dolet eyes, fair 
complexion and ros}' cheeks, "none 
knew her but to love her." In a house 
nestled between the hills, since for 
many years owned and occupied by the 
late Dr. Kennison, the French lord 
wooed and won the Puritan maid. 
Their moonlight sails, and saunterings 
upon the pleasant Newbury' shore, with 
the sweet strains of the Count's violin, 
are still remembered b}^ a few aged in- 
habitants. 

The wedding created a great sensa- 
tion in the quiet village. The bride 
24 



186 



REMrN^ISCEl^^'CES 



looked supremely lovel}- in a dress of 
pink satin, with an over dress of white 
lace, and white satin slippers. 

Though it was the delight of the 
Count to lavish every luxury upon his 
3'oung wife, she continued the same un- 
pretending, modest person as before 
marriage. A few short weeks of hliss, 
and a shade fell over the sunlight of the 
new life of the wedded pair. Naturally 
delicate, continuous care and attention 
to a sick mother, had jjlanted the germs 
of New England's scourge, consumj)- 
tion, by which the Countess de Vlpart 
rapidly declined. In this illness she is 
described as presenting an almost 
seraphic loveliness. Reclining in an 
eas3' chair, draped in white, her appear- 
ance was that of a being of a higher 
world than earth. 

Not a twelvemwith from the joyous 
bridal eve, the village bell pealed the 
funeral knell, and the remains of the 
lovel}^ Mary Ingalls, Countess de Vi- 
part, were deposited under the turf of 
the quiet rural burial place on the hill 
side, "beneath the locust bloom." A 
low, slate stone, the style of the period, 
marks her grave, it bears this inscrij)- 
tion : 

MABY, 
WIFE OF Francis Vipaut, 

OF GUADALOUPE. 

DIED JANUARY 5, 1807, 

AGED 21 VEARS. 

This incident of the union of the ex- 
iled nobleman and the New England 
maiden, Whittier has woven into one of 
his most pleasing ballads, and in his 
"Countess" it will be perpetuated to 
future generations — 

"The Gascon lord, the village maid, 
111 death still clasp theii'haiids; 
The love that levels rank and grade, 
Unite their severed hands." 

Overwiielmed with grief, the stricken 
husband soon after his wife's death, re- 



turned to his West Indian home. Sev- 
eral articles that had belonged to the 
Count and his bride, are still cherished 
as sacred mementoes, by relatives and 
friends, in the vicinity of the home of 
their brief wedded life. 

Time having in a measure healed the 
heart wound, Count de Yipart again 
married in Guadaloupe, where he died 
and was buried. His descendants still 
reside at their homes on the island, 
ranking high in the order of nobilitv. 

The retired valley on the old buiying 
hill, Newburjport, contains the re- 
mains of several French exiles, who 
died during- the years from 1792 to 
1812. Doubtless the whole number 
were Catholics, and as at that period 
no ground had been consecrated in the 
Puritan town, this quiet spot was chos- 
en in a Protestant burial ground, to 
la}- ■ their bodies apart from others, 
when their spirits had departed — a 
spot doul)ly consecrated by the tears 
and prayers of surviving relatives and 
friends. Most of these graves were 
marked by head stones ; some of these 
have been broken : those that remain 
are inscribed as follows : 

CI GIT 

MAPIE FELICITTE NADAU, 

NEE A LA BASSETERRE GUADALOUPE 

DECEDE LE 19tH FEVRIER, 1812, 

AGEE DE 25 ANS ET 6 MOIS. 

ESPOUSEDE MR. PIERRE MORLANDE, 

HABITANT AU QUARTIER DE ST. ROSE, 

DE LA DITTE ILE. 

JOHN BAFTISTE DATOUR, ESQ., ' 

FORMERLY Ol' GRANTEKRE IN THE ISLAND 

OF GUADALOUPE. 

DIED APIUL 24, 1797, 

AGED 74. 

HERE LIES 
A GOOD SON, 

JAQUE MESTRE, 

WHO DIED 

aug'st 2nd, 1793, 
aged 21 teaks. 



OF A no:n'AGei?^aiiian^. 



187 



HERB LIES 
A GOOD SON, 

LOUIS EN MESTRE, 

WHO DIED 

DEC'u 9th, 1792, 

AGED 17 TEARS. 

M. MEDERIO DUMAS, 

NATIF DE BORDEAUX, 

HABITANT DU FORT DAUPHIN, 

ISLE ST. DOMINIQUE, 

DECEDE A NEWBURYPORT, 

LE 9th OF MAR., 1793, 

AGE DE 49 ANS. 

In 1795, Nicholas Cools Clodefro}', 
from Castrie in the island of St. Lucia, 
ill the West Indies, came to Newhury- 
port in a vessel commanded by Capt. 
John Coombs. He was accompanied 
by his youngest son, Moise Jacques 
Dupree Cooles Godefro}', who was boi*n 
in Bordeaux, France, in 1785, and 
about twenty negro slaves, house ser- 
vants, and families from his plantation. 
The oldest son, Jacques Mane Cools 
Godefroy, had previously come to Bal- 
timore. This family- of exiles com- 
menced housekeeping in a house near 
the head of Federal street ; but, aged 
and infirm, torn from home and friends, 
the exhausted fugitive turned his face 
to the wall and died, surviving scarceh* 
a week from the day of his landing. 
A will is on record in Salem, which was 
proved Dec. 28. 1795, by which the 
plantation in the island of St. Lucia 
was bequeathed to the eldest son, and 
a large sum of money to the youngest, 
to whom Capt. Coombs was appointed 
guardian, and in whose family he found 
a home. The negroes, now free, went 
to service in Oldtown, where the jovial 
faces, woolly heads and glistening 
i^'or3' of the little darkies, and their 
frolicsome pranks, attracted much no- 
tice. They and their parents are still 
remembered by some aged persons. 
Owing to a wrong tz'anslation of the 



will of his father which was written in 
French, the lad, Moise Cooles Godefroy, 
was defrauded of a portion of his in- 
heritance ; the household effects were 
sold — plate engraved with the family 
arms, clothing and linen. Nothing of 
this personal propert}^ has descended in 
the family, with the exception of one 
solitary counterpne, made from a 
dress of Madam Nicholas Cooles God- 
efroy, who had died some years previ- 
ous to her husband's exile. In 1810 
Jacques Mane Cooles Godefro}', visited 
his brother previous to his return to 
the plantation in St. Lucia. He pre- 
sented Moise with nearly a thousand 
dollars to stock his store on State 
street, and made a will in his favor, 
which was deposited with Bishop 
Chevereux in Boston, who was ap- 
pointed the executor. He died a 
few 3'ears after, at his home in St. 
Lucia. A short time after, to his 
surprise, Moise Cooles Godefroy re- 
ceived a notification from Bishop CheA^- 
eraux, purporting that a priest and a 
lawyer had arrived in Boston, bringing 
with them a second and later will made 
b}' Jacques Cooles Godefroy shortly 
before his decease, by which his estate 
was willed to the church. Proof was 
wanting to controvert this second will, 
which the descendants have supposed 
forged or obtained from a mind weak- 
ened hj disease. Sam L. Knapp, esq. 
was employed by Moses Cooles Gode- 
froy, but nothing was etfected, and the 
despoiled heir, under the plain Enghsh 
name of Moses Cole, continued his bus- 
iness on State street. He married 
Miss Sally Avery from York, Maine, 
and reared a large famil}'. Mr. Cole 
possessed a fine talent for portrait 
painting, which he delighted to culti- 
vate. His sitters were counted amongst 



188 



BEMrN"ISCEIirCES 



our most prominent citizens, and many 
of his portraits are extant. I have 
mentioned that he was an adept in 
framing the paintings and wrought 
pictures of the 3'oung ladies of New- 
buryport. On Monroe's visit to this 
town, unknown to the president, Mr. 
Cole sketched a fine likeness of him 
while he was at the dinner table. This 
artistic talent descended in his family ; 
three of the sons chose art as a profes- 
sion. Joseph and Charles, both de- 
ceased, were noted painters, and Mr. 
L^-man Cole's pictures are well known 
in this vicinit}'. Mr. Moses Cole was 
a sufferer b}' the great fire of 1811, 
losing both his dwelling house on Mid- 
dle street, and his store on State street. 
He died in 1849, aged 65. His widow, 
Sally (Averj") Cole, sm-vived many 
3^ears, d3dng Oct. 23, 1874, at the ad- 
vanced age of 92 years. 
The Godefrov arms are : 




THREE I'ET.ICANS HEADS VULNING THEJISELVES. 

CREST — A DEMI SARACEN PPB, HOLDINCJ IN 

TOE DEXTER HAND A CROSS CROSSLET 

FITCHEE A. 

The remains of Nicholas Codes 
Godefroy lie with his countrymen, in the 
valley on biuying hill, but no stone 
marks the grave. 

Anthony and Mary Le Breton were 
born in the cit^- of Nantes, France. 



They had thirteen children. Stephen 
Le Breton their eldest child emigrated 
to the West Indies, and settled in 
Guadaloupe. 

Pierre Le Breton was born in Nantes, 
Oct. 17, 1745, being the 3-oungest of 
thirteen children, receiving his name 
from his paternal grandfather. When 
he was about fifteen 3-ears old, he took 
French leave of his parents and home, 
and went to join his brother Stephen, 
of whom he was very fond. His 
brother sent him immediatel}' back to 
France. As a punishment for this es- 
capade, his father placed him an ap- 
prentice to a cabinet maker ; here he 
learned the use of tools, which ever af- 
ter was a source of pleasure to him. 
When they thought him sufficiently 
punished, his parents consented to his 
joining his brother. At the age of 
twent}' he was the owner of a large 
plantation and a number of slaves 
When al)out twenty-one he became 
ver}- ill, pronounced in a consumption, 
and his ph3'sieians, for a change of air, 
advised a trip to New England. Capt. 
William Noyes, the husband of mj^ 
great-aunt MoUie Smith, was at the 
island in a fine new ship, and with him 
^•oung Le Breton took passage. This 
Capt. Noyes had lost one of his hands ; 
he was the one so long confined in 
Dartmoor prison during the Revolu- 
tionar}' war ; it was his hat that fur- 
nished the braid b}' which m^- aunt- Sa- 
rah Smith learned to braid straw. 
Capt. No^es and his passenger became 
firm friends, and upon their arrival in 
Newburyport, the captain took the 
young Frenchman home to his house 
on Liberty street, where he remained 
boarding in the familv until he entirely' 
recovered his health. Pierre LeBre- 
ton often accompanied Captain and 



OF A NON^AGEITAIIIAN. 



189 



Mrs. No_yes in their visits to the Smith 
homestead on Crane-neck hill. I have 
often heard my aunt Sarah speak of 
his appearance as most striking. A 
pale, fair complexion, deep, blue e^'es 
shaded b}- long, black lashes, and dark, 
chestnut hair waving in curls about his 
face and neck. A large garden was 
attached to Capt. Noj^es' house, and 
there Pierre delighted to resort. In an 
adjoining garden, belonging to a Mr. 
Pearson, the 3'oung foreigner often ob- 
served a young lady busy among the 
tlowers ; he soon formed an acquaint- 
ance, and became deeply interested iii 
her. This interest combined with his 
friendship for the Noyes famil}', and 
his strong liking for the town of New- 
buryport, induced him to dispose of 
his plantation in Guadaloupe and set- 
tle here. This was done against his 
parents' and brother Stephen's advice 
and entreaties. Not being acquainted 
with business, he had not been long in 
the countv}' before he lost all his prop- 
erty. This event was such a surprise 
that ever after he lived in a state of 
expectanc}' and preparation for a simi- 
lar occurrence. 

He had now to commence life anew, 
and went to his old friend, to whom he 
was verj^ strongly attached, for advice. 
This turned his attention to navigation. 
He sailed with Capt. No^yes until he 
became both ship master and owner. 
Having secured a competence, again 
become a rich man, he built the house 
on Middle street, on the corner of Fak, 
opposite the Universalist church, with 
a shop attached, that in case he should 
lose property he might in some measure 
be prepared for it. This calamit}', so 
greatly feared,, never occurred. The 
great fire of 1811 burned to his house 
and there stopped. 



Having accumulated a fortune, and 
built his house, he determined to marry. 
All this time he had entertained an in- 
terest in Miss Elisabeth Pearson, and 
having ascertained that this affection- 
was mutual, after great opposition from 
her parents on account of his being a 
foreigner, they were married in 1776. 
Their children were Peter and Elisa- 
beth LeBreton. Mrs. LeBreton died, 
of t3'phoid fever, taken from her hus- 
band, Dec. 27, 178i, aged thirty-six 
years. 

After remaining three 3'ears a wid- 
ower, Mr. LeBreton married Miss 
Elizabeth Sawyer, on the 20th of 
IMarch, 1784. They had one child who 
died in infanc3^ At the time of this 
marriage, a sister of Elizabeth, Eunice 
Saw3'er, was taken into and made Que 
of the family, and on his decease, Mr. 
LeBreton bequeathed to her a suflicient 
maintenance during her life. This 
property' Eunice willed back to the 
LeBreton famil^^, but, b}' some inform- 
ality in the will, it went to the Sawj'er 
relatives. Mr. and Mrs. LeBreton 
adopted the daughter of her eldest sis- 
ter Eunice Couch ; they also adopted the 
first grandchild, Peter LeBreton, when 
he was two years old. Capt LeBre- 
ton was a generous, genial gentleman, 
the soul of hospitaht}' and good humor. 

One morning, Mr. Moses Colman 
was called to his door, where he found 
a strange woman whose home he failed 
to enquire, offering a pig for sale. 
She was on horseback, her wares in 
pannier baskets. Mr. Colman did not 
need the pig but the httle fellow looked 
so cunning, peeping from the basket, 
that the old gentleman, fond of pets, 
concluded the bargain, and the small 
porker was placed in the pen, where he 
became the distinguished sire of the 



190 



REMIKTSCEXCES 



famous Byfielcl breed of swine. This 
caused ^Ir. Colmaii's pork to be in 
great demand. Capt. LeBreton having 
purchased a pig for family use. David 
Emery, then a lad in his teens, took it 
to the house, where it was carried to 
the kitchen to be cut up. Through his 
father Colman, David had formed the 
acquaintance of Capt. LeBreton, with 
whom he was a favorite. One o'clock 
came, the dinner bell sounded. A sum- 
mons was sent for David ; the youth 
hesitated ; he wore only his common 
suit under his frock : to dine with Capt. 
LeBreton he ought to be dressed in his 
Sunday best, but the old gentleman step- 
ping into the kitchen, in his most per- 
emptory manner ordered David to take 
off his frock and follow him. The 
bountiful repast over, wine was served 
with dessert, and little Peter, then 
scarcely able to talk plain, was told to 
drink to the guest. The httle lellow 
bashfully demurred, at wdiich the old 
gentleman exclaimed, "Peter, mine 
grandson, be a little gentleman, and 
drink Monsieur Emery's health directly. 
The tiny glass was filled, and little Pe-, 
ter drank with due etiquette. Mr. Em- 
ery was so much amused that he often 
related the story. 

Capt. Le Breton was exceedingly lil)- 
eral to his workmen. Every Saturday 
night those in his employ received a 
piece of meat for their Sunday dinner 
For years the Captain bought his meat 
of Mr. Emery. Amongst the steve- 
dores was an Irishman by the name of 
Murray. The master always superin- 
tended the giving out of the meat to 
his men, and in his funny way he 
would say: '"Cut dat for Murray, Da- 
vid, he 'ave one hard tooth." 

This Murray had a wife, a most 
worthy woman, who worked for me for 



years on Monday, for a quarter of a 
dollar and a basket of cold victuals ; 
and on Saturday she scoured the brass- 
es, candlesticks, stairs and floors, did 
the day's cleaning, receiving therefor, 
with much gratitude, her bundle of ed- 
ibles, and the coffee grounds which for 
a long period were dail}' poured into a 
pi teller for her use. 

Capt. LeBreton's good humored gen- 
erosity was often subjected to imposi- 
tion. One day he came to the sham- 
bles, and with a jovial face and in gay 
tones, said, "David, yesterday I gave 
one leetle boy a pair of shoes ; dis 
mornin' half a do/X'ii leetle boys come 
shoof, shoof. shoof. after me. AVhat 
did it mean ? Wanted shoes, hey ! Too 
moosh, too moosh, David, but 1 shod 
th.e rogues, I shod every garcon, Da- 
vid," ending his recital with a hearty 
laugh, rubbing his hands together in 
great glee. 

In 18.07. Etienne LeBretagne, Capt. 
LeBreton's eldest and best beloved 
l)rother, Stephen, made him a visit, 
and was much pleased with the coun- 
try and people, and declared, -'if he had 
been a younger man he would remove 
himself and famil3-, and finish his days 
here with his brother." Two other 
brothers visited him, one of whom set- 
tled in the city of New Orleans, the 
other in some part of "New Jersey. 

Capt. LeBreton was a Catholic. In 
performance of a vow he presented the 
First Religious society of Newbuiyport 
with the pair of tall silver tankards, 
used in the sacramental service. 

Pierre LeBreton died iu Newbury- 
port, from gout in the stomach, Febru- 
aiT 24, 181 o, aged 67 years. 

Peter LeBreton, the only son of 
Capt. LeBreton, married Tabitha Lew- 
is of Marblehead, Sept., 1800. Their 



OP A NONAGEXAEIA?^^. 



191 



oldest son, Peter, adopted by his grand- 
father, at his death received property 
independent of his father. Peter Le- 
Breton 3d, married in 1823, Sarah E., 
(laughter of Tristram Chase, of the 
Chase farm. Meeting-house hill, West 
jS^ewlniry. 

Elisabeth LeBreton, the oldest daugh- 
ter, married Henry Johnson in 1825. 
This lady died at the age of twenty- 
ono, leaving an infant ten days old. 

Mary Anthony-, the second daughter 
of Peter LeBreton, jun., named by 
lier grandfather for his father and 
mother, Marie Antoine LeBretagne, 
married Henry Johnson, May. 182G. 

Edmund Lewis LeBreton, the sec- 
ond son, married Lucy Oliver, daugh- 
ter of Dr. Prescott, September, 1829. 

Stephen LeBreton, the third sou of 
Peter LeBreton, jun., died unmarried, 
Nov. 4, 1834. 

Caroline Lewis, the third daughter, 
married John Stephen Bartlett, July, 
18;>2. John Stephen Bartlett. M. D., 
died in Marblehead, March G, 1840 : 
his widow married Capt. William Ham- 
mond of Marblehead, May, 1842. 

The fourth son, George Washington 
LeBreton, was shot b}' an Indian in 
Oregon, and died from inflammation, 
March 6, 1844, aged 32 years. 

Charlotte, youngest daughter of Pe- 
ter LeBreton, jun., manied John James 
Coombs, August, 1835. 

Elisabeth LeBreton, only daughter 
of Capt. Peter and Elisabeth (Pearson) 
LeBreton, was born Nov. 28, 1786. 
Her mother died when she was but two 
years old. Her grandmother and aunts 
who lived in the next house, cared for 
her until her father's second marriage, 
in 1784. to Elisabeth Saw^-er, who 
made herself beloved, not only to the 



father, the children, and the Pearson 
family, but to all who knew her. 

Elisabeth LeBreton married Captain 
David Stickney, in 1802. They had 
four children ; Elisabeth LeBreton. 
Hannah Lee, Peter LeBreton, and Ma- 
ry Thurston Stickney. Capt. Stickne^y 
died February, 1820. The widow' 
Stickney married the Rev. Henry C. 
Wright, then pastor of the society in 
first parish in West Newbury, in 1826. 

Eunice Couch, the niece adopted by 
Captain and Mrs. LeBreton, married 
David Rogers. She died in Cincinnati, 
aged 30 years. 

Mrs. P^lisabeth (Sawyer) LeBreton 
died Ma}- 4, 1822, aged 74 3-ears. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

The first meeting-house in Newbury 
was f)uilt on the lower green in Old- 
town, but in 1642, a majority of the 
population having moved farther up on 
the Merrimac, a new house of worship 
was greeted. This removal caused 
much opposition and contention, but in 
1642 -'there was granted to Mr. James 
Noyes, four acres of land upon the hill, 
by the little pine swamp, upon which to 
set the meeting-house." Of this struc- 
ture I have no record, excepting that 
the canopy of the pulpit was presented 
to the new society in the west precinct, 
after the erection of their meeting- 
house, the first parish having built a 
new sanctuary, in the year 1700. 

I distinctly remember this building, 
the spire and high pointed roof being 
plainly visible from Crane-neck hill. 
It was a square edifice of two stories, 
with front and side entrances, the hio-h 



192 



REMi:PiriSCE:N^OES 



four-sided roof terminated at the apex 
ill a dome-shaped belfry, surmounted 
b}^ a high, pointed spire, crowned by a 
copper weathercock. The principal en- 
trance opened into a broad aisle, which 
led to the high pulpit, with the sounding- 
board above, the deacon's seat beneath, 
and the communion table in front. Two 
short cross aisles led from the side doors, 
(ialleries ran round three sides of the 
house. The "singing seats" were op- 
posite the pulpit ; the side galleries were 
filled with benches, and a larger part of 
the lower floor. Space was appropri- 
ated for pews, and permission granted 
to about twenty persons to build them. 
It was voted, "that a pew be built for 
the minister's wife by the pulpit stairs ; 
that Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire 
should have the first choice of a pew 
and Major Thomas Noyes the second, 
and Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire, and 
Tristram Coffin esquire, be impowcred 
to procure a bell of al)out four hundred 
pounds weight." 

The inscription on this bell, Avas "let 
us love as brethren, Mathew Bay ley 
fundet 1705." It was ordered "that 
this bell be rung at nine o'clock every 
night and the day of the month be 
tolled." 

As the belfry was just above the 
centre of the ceiling, the bell rope de- 
pended therefrom, and the bell-ringer 
stood in the broad aisle to perform his 
duty. 

The Rev. John Woodbridge, the suc- 
cessor of Messrs. Parker and Noyes, 
died in 1695. The next clergyman was 
the llev. John Ilichardson ; his succes- 
cessor, the Rev. Christopher Toppau, 
who died in 1747 ; he was followed by 
the Rev. John Tucker ; the last clergy- 
man to minister through his pastorate 
in the old meeting house was the Rev. 



Abraham Moore, a fine speakpr and a 
man of superior literary attainments ; 
he died in 1801, and the Rev. John 
Popkin was ordained in 1804. In 
1806 a new house was^ built ; this 
structure mau}^ of our readers still re- 
member. On May 4, Dr. Popkin 
preached for the last time in the old 
building ; May 6th, it was torn down. 

On the 16th of June there was a to- 
tal eclipse of the sun ; the obscuration 
commenced about ten o'clock, and in 
half an hour stars were ^dsible ; the 
birds flew to the trees, and the fowl 
sought their roosts. On this day the 
sills of the new meeting house were 
laid, and it was dedicated on the 
seventeenth of September. The rais- 
ing and dedication were days of jubi- 
lee, in which great crowds thronged to 
Oldtown. 

B}' the 3'ear 1685, what was termed 
the west precinct, ar the new town, had 
acquired so large a population, that the 
inhabitants, being such a distance from 
the meeting house, began to consider 
the expediency of forming a second 
parish, and erecting a house of worship 
in a more convenient locality. March 
10, a petition was sent to the town of 
Newbury, "the humble request of 
some of the inhabitants of this town, 
doe desire and entreat, that you would 
be pleased to grant us your consent, 
approbation and assistance in getting 
some help in the ministry amongst us, 
by reason that we doe live soe remote 
from the means, great part of us, that 
we cannot with any comfort and con- 
venience come to the public worship of 
God ; neither can our families ha 
brought up under the means of grace as 
christians ought to bee, and which, is 
absolutely necessary unto salvation ; 
therefore we will humbly crave your 



OP A N^ON^AGENAEIAIN^. 



193 



lo^ang compliance with us in this our 
request." This petition commenced a 
contest which lasted for several j^ears, 
which shows that the men of " ye good 
old times" were subject to like pas- 
sions and prejudices as those of more 
modern days. 

In 1688, Joseph Moring bequeathed, 
in his will, twent}' pounds to the " new 
town" in Newbury, to help build a 
meeting-house. The next 3'ear, 1869, 
sixteen persons erected a meeting-house 
about thirty feet square, at the plains. 
In the February following, the town 
appointed a committee of eight per- 
"sons to confer with the Rev. Mr. Rich- 
ardson respecting the propriet}' of the 
west-end people calling a minister. Mr. 
Richardson, anxious not to give of- 
fence, declined to express his opinion 
or give his advice. The committee re- 
ported, '•'that considering the times as 
troublesome, and the towne being so 
much behind with Mr. Richardson's sal- 
ary, the farmers and the neck men be- 
ing under great disadvantages upon 
man}- accounts, do desire and expect, 
if such a thing l)e granted, that they 
should have the same privilege to pro- 
vide for themselves, which we think 
cannot conduce to peace, therefore de- 
sire the new towne to rest satisfied for 
the present." 

At the town meeting in March, fif- 
teen men belonging to the west end, 
''after stating that it was well known 
how far the}' had proceeded as . to a 
meeting-house, left two propositions 
with the town ; one that the town 
would agree to support two ministers, 
so that one could preach at the west 
end meeting-house, or that the town 
would consent to have the ministry 
amongst them upon their OAvn charge, 
and that the town would lovingly agree 



upon a dividing line between them so 
that they might know what families 
may now belong to the west meeting- 
house." 

The summer following, the inhabi- 
tants of the "new towne" began to 
consider respecting the calling of Mr. Ed- 
ward Tomson to minister to them in spir- 
itual things. This elicited a vote by the 
town ' ' against the settlement of Mr. 
Tomson or any other minister until ye 
church and towne are agreed upon it, 
looking upon such a thing as an intru- 
sion upon ye church and town." In 
October the people of the west end 
petitioned the general court, " to be es- 
tablished a people by themselves, for 
the maintenance of the ministry amongst 
them." 

In December, the town voted against 
this petition being granted, and chose 
a committee to present a counter peti- 
tion to the general court. In J 692 the 
west end people again made a petition 
and proposition about calling a minis- 
ter. Dec. 20, the town voted that 
they would call another minister at the 
west end. On the 27th, a committee 
was chosen ' ' to enquire after a suitable 
person to preach at the west end and 
to keep schoole." In May, 1693, the 
town voted that Mr. John Clark be 
called to assist Mr. Richardson at 
the west end, and to keep a grammar 
school." This vote caused much 
dissension, as most of the west 
end people felt bound to adhere to Mr. 
Tomson. June 15, another petition 
was forwarded to the general court, in 
which they request the governor and 
council,'" to pity and help them, to ease 
them of a heavy burden of travel on 
God's day." July 5th, "the town in 
their votes for the choice of a minister 
for the west end of the towne, in order 
25 



194 



KEMDSriSOElSrOE s 



to a full settlement in the work of the niin- 
istiy, and Mr. John Clark was then cho- 
sen and not one vote against him. " T wen- 
t3--five persons of the west end entered 
their dissent against calling ]Mr. Clark, 
"for the reason that the new towne 
have a minister already." Mr. Clark 
declined the call, and Mr. Christopher 
Toppan was invited to preach at the 
"new towne." Mr. Toppan declined 
to settle, but expressing his willingness 
to help in the work of the ministry for 
a 3'ear, the town voted to give Mr. 
Toppan forty pounds in money, and 
four contributions a year. 

Oct. 22d. 1694, " the towne brought 
in theyr votes b}' papers, for a minister 
for the west end of Newlniry, and Mr. 
Christopher Toppan had sixty-five votes 
and Mr. Tomson seventeen. Jan. 1, 
1695, the town metand voted "that Pipe- 
stave hill near Daniel Jaques' house 
shall be the place for the meeting-house, 
and those that li\'e nearest to that 
place shall pay to the ministry there, 
and those that live nearest to the old 
meeting-house shall pay there ; the in- 
habitants of the west end to choose a 
minister for themselves, only Mr. Tom- 
son excepted, and the meeting-house 
to stand where it do, until the major 
part of them see cause to remove it." 

Jan. 3d, Tristram Coffin, Henry 
Short and Abraham IMerrill, divided 
the town into two parishes. 

June 5th, "Town voted to give Mr. 
Christopher Toppan 20 pounds year- 
1}' in money, and three hundred pounds 
in good country pay, so long as he car- 
ries on one half of the ministry among 
them, and thirty pounds a year so long 
as he shall keep a grammar and a 
writing school, the scholars to pay as 
they did to Mr. John Clark Mr. Top- 



pan accepted these proposals July 
seventeenth. 

Dec. 18th. The town, "on the re- 
quest of the inhabitants of the west 
end of the town of Newlniry, granted 
them five acres of laud on tlie east sid(; 
of Artichoke river for a pasture for the 
ministry, and one acre of land near the 
west meeting house, and when the m:i- 
jor part shall see cause to remove the 
said meeting house, the land shall be 
at the disposal of the town to procure 
land for the ministiT, near the west 
meeting house when removed." 

Feb. 28th, 1696. A rate was made 
for payment of building and furnishing 
the west end meeting-house and ministry 
house. The expense was twenty-two 
pounds and three shillings in money, and 
two hundred and eighteen pounds, eigh- 
teen shillings and two pence in pay. 
This was due from sixt3'-four persons. 
Of this number twenty-four objected to 
the continuance of the meeting-house 
on the plains, being desirous that it 
should be removed farther up to Pipe- 
stave hill. These were Benjamin and 
Joseph Morse, Thomas, Daniel and 
Moses Chase, John senior and John 
jr., and Abial Kelley, Mr. Abraham 
Annis, Isaac and Joseph Richardson. 
Abel Huse, Caleb Moody, Benjamin 
Low, Tristram (Ti-eenleaf, Daniel Mor- 
rison, Edward Woodman, John Hoag, 
Hanariah Ordway, Thomas FoUansbee, 
Lieut. John Emerson, Thomas Wil- 
liams, Francis Willet and Samuel Sa- 
yer jr.. This dissent continued for 
years, the subject of strife thereafter 
being the site of the west end meeting- 
house. 

In April the Rev. IMr. Richardson 
died, and in September Mr. Christo- 
pher Toppan was ordained his succes- 
sor. That same 3'ear the Rev. Samuel 



OF A NONAGE:^^ARIAN. 



195 



Belcher with his family came to the 
west precinct. In October, 1698, a 
church was gathered and the Rev. Mr. 
Belcher was ordained on November 
10th. In January, 1706, the precinct 
voted ' ' that they either would remove 
the meeting-house and l)uild an addi- 
tion to it, or else build a new meeting- 
house." February 28th, it was voted 
' • that ye inhabitants of ye west end 
of the town of Newbury will build a 
new meeting-house upon Pipestave hill, 
fifty-four feet long, and thirty-four feet 
broad, within ye space of five years at 
ye furthest, and to meet in the old meet- 
ing-house five years, and not to force 
any person to pay an}' mone}^ or pa^- 
till three years be expired, and then to 
pa}' one-quarter part yearly until ye 
whole be paid." From this vote twen- 
ty persons dissented. Captain Hugh 
March, Caleb Moody, and sergeant 
John Ordway were chosen a committee 
to build the new meeting-house, and 
the foundation was laid in 1709. In 
February the opposition at the plains 
petitioned the general court for relief, 
showing that onl}' twelve j'ears before 
the}' had built a meeting-house, and 
those now calling themselves the major- 
ity had been since planted in the upper 
part of the precinct, yet the majority 
had proceeded to levy a tax, and to 
employ a collector to take away their 
goods for the furtherance of their de- 
sign to erect the more remote house ; 
that the expense of another building 
would be a heavy burthen, necessitat- 
ing them to lose the charge to which 
they had been put, besides frustrating 
the enjoyment of the means of grace 
for themselves and their children. If 
no other relief oftered, they prayed to 
be set off, to maintain a minister and 
a ministry amongst themselves. This 



document was signed by fifty-flve per- 
sons, — eleven Bartlets, six Sawyers, 
three Merrills, four Browns, three Bai- 
leys, Charles and Joseph Annis, two 
Thurstons, two named Rogers, three 
Littles, and nineteen others. In the 
March town meeting of the next year, 
tlie inhabitants of the precinct voted 
''that they accepted of what was al- 
ready done, and authorized the major 
part of the committee (who were cho- 
sen in 1706, February twenty- eighth) to 
proceed and finish the meeting-house 
according to the time mentioned in 
said vote." 

On June 2d, a notification from the 
general court was served on the town 
of Newbury, by some of the west end 
petitioners. June 7th, the town chose 
Col. Thomas Noyes to act in their be- 
half. This gentleman decided that the 
major part could not be aggrieved by 
putting down the old, or putting up 
the new meeting-house ; he concluded 
by saying, "the whole of the western 
precinct, assemble in a house not above 
thirty feet square, and yet rather than 
not have their wills they would have 
two churches." 

This produced a reply from the mi- 
nority, in which they state that they 
" have one hundred and thirty families, 
seventy of which do not live two miles 
from the old meeting-house." They 
confess to a desire to have their wills, 
in so far as they are not sparing of 
their purses for the propagation of 
the gospel for themselves, and partic- 
ularly for their children, and if it is 
more convenient to obtain this good 
end, they had rather have two church- 
es and two meeting-houses, and they 
petitioned the court to this end. This 
petition was not granted, and it was 
resolved in council, that Pipestave hill 



196 



REMEN^ISCENCES 



was the most convenient place, and a 
committee was appointed to wait npon 
the Rev. Mr. Belclier and acquaint liim 
with the desire of the court, that when 
a meeting-house should be erected 
there, and convenient dwelling house, 
with suitable accommodation of land, 
he be content to remove thither. 

Determined not to worsliip in the 
meeting-house on Pipestave hill, twen- 
ty-seven of the petitioners signed the 
following : 

'' July ye 12th, 1710. 

We whose names Are hereto Sub- 
scribed doo Agree And oblidge our- 
sealves to each other to mayntaiu the 
publick ministry At the old meeting- 
house in ye west precinct in Newbury, 
Although we are forsed to pay Else- 
where what shall be lavid upon us." 

On the next day the inhabitants of 
the west end held a meeting, and voted 
to " observe the direction and resolve 
of the general court." On July ITth 
they held another meeting, in which 
they voted to " levy a tax of four hun- 
dred pounds to defray part of the charg- 
es of building a meeting-house, minis- 
tr}- house, and so forth, to pa}' back all 
they had taken by distraint, and to con- 
firm all that the Imilding committee 
chosen in 1706 had done, and gave 
them full power to finish." 

On the 19th of April, 1711, the pre- 
cinct had another meeting, and, as the 
time of five j'ears during which they 
had determined to meet in the old meet- 
ing-house had expired, the majority pro- 
ceeded to carr}- the remainder of the 
vote into execution. A committee of 
three was chosen, to dispose of the min- 
istry house and land near the old meet- 
ing-house, and obtain a house and land 
near the new meeting-house at Pipe- 
stave hill. It was also voted " to take 
the seates and boards and glass out of 



ye old meeting-house to be improved in 
the new meeting-house, and also to re- 
move the old meeting-house and sett it 
up att Pipestave hill to be improved as 
a barn for the ministry in convenient 
time." 

Of course this vote but added fuel to 
the fiame. The minority firmly resist- 
ed every attempt at removal of '' the 
Plains" meeting-house. One night in 
the first of the summer, a party came 
down from the upper part of the parish, 
and in a disorderly and riotous manner 
tore down the old meeting-house and 
carried it off. The minority, being as 
determined not to submit as the major- 
ity were to govern, immediately began 
the erection of another house of wor- 
ship. To frustrate this undertaking, 
in July a committee of six persons 
petitioned the general court to stay the 
proceedings. The court directed that 
the ' ' raysing of the meeting-house be 
delayed until there be a" hearing of the 
matter before the court." 

No attention was paid, by the mi- 
nority, to this order. This caused 
another petition against them, in which 
it was stated that the minorit}- had 
"raised and part covered a meeting- 
house, and set it near the dividing line, 
notwithstanding the advice and direc- 
tion of the court." 

The court immediately ordered "that 
Samuel Bartlet, John Ordway, Deacon 
Joshua Brown, Joshua Baile}', vSkipper 
Lunt and Penuel Titcomb, be anew 
served b}' the sheriff with a process 
and order of this court, strictly forbid- 
ding them and their associates proceed- 
ing in the work of their intended meet- 
ing-house, and that said persons be 
summoned to attend the fall session of 
the court." 

On the 23d of October, 1711, the 



OF A NON^AGEJ^ABIAISr. 



197 



minority again petitioned the court for 
leave to go on with their meeting- 
house. "•Tliatthe farthermost of forty 
families, and about thirty more of our 
neighbors are not above one and a half 
miles from the meeting-house we are 
about to erect, and that we deem it a 
duty to maintain the Rev. Mr. Belcher, 
(for whom we have a peculiar respect) , 
until he may be orderly dismist." 
They also requested the court ' '• to set 
them off as a precinct, making Arti- 
choke river the dividing line, as there 
are now ninety-six families above Arti- 
choke river." The court considered 
that there was no present necessity for 
this new precinct and church, and or- 
dered that the building of the house be 
no further proceeded with. No regard 
being paid to this order, the court sent an 
express to forbid the work. Several 
gentlemen went to Boston to show 
their grievances, but obtained no relief; 
there the^' met a Mr. John Bridger of 
Portsmouth. This gentleman was "sur- 
ve^'or of the king's woods," and a 
churchman. He informed the New- 
bury party that the Church of England 
would protect them if the}' would put 
themselves under its control. He vis- 
ited Newbury, and told the "plains" 
people that if they would convert their 
Intended meeting-house into a church, 
he would ensure them the protection of 
the governor. 

Some were somewhat acquainted with 
the church ; after the perusal of several 
Episcopal books, a consent was given, 
and the Rev. Henry Harris, who had 
been sent from England to minister at 
King's Chapel, Boston, came and 
preached to them. This gentlemen 
was the father of Mr. Benjamin Harris 
for whom Harris street is named. At 
the time of his coming, when a ship ar- 



rived from England it was customary 
for persons expecting friends to go to the 
wharf to meet them on their landing. 
Amongst the throng assembled on this 
occasion was a young lady, whose 
glance riveted that of the handsome 
missionary ere the ship reached the 
landing. This '-love at first sight" 
was soon followed by the marriage of 
the youthful pair. 

Mr. Harris sent a Mr. Lampton, the 
chaplain of a station ship, to preach at 
the Plains. Some went to the meeting 
at Pipestave hill, but the majority em- 
braced the doctrines of the Church of 
England. Thus the Episcopal society 
was formed, and the church completed, 
under the designation of Queen Ann's 
Chapel. In May, 1715, the Rev. Hen- 
ry Lucas, of London, was appointed 
their rector. The bishop of London 
presented a bell to the societ}'. This 
bell afterwards became memorable as 
an object of contention between the so- 
ciety at Belleville and that of St. Paul's. 
A large silver christening basin was 
presented by Capt. Richard Brown, a 
native of England, who came to New- 
bury port from the West Indies. He 
married a Miss Hudson. Capt. Daniel 
Marquand married his widow, from 
whom are the descendants of that 
name and one family of Jenkins. He 
was interred in the cemetery on the 
Plains. The communion service con- 
sisted of a flagon, inscribed: "The 
gift of K. William and Q. Marj' to the 
Rev. Samuel M^des, for the use of their 
Majesties' Chappell in New England, 
1694," and a chalice with the inscrip- 
tion : "Ex dono Johannis Mills 1693." 
This plate, in good preservation, is now 
in use at St. Paul's church. In 1720 
Mr. Lucas died, and the Rev. Matthias 
Plant, a graduate of Jesus College, 



198 



REMINISCENCES 



Cambridge, England, succeeded in the 
rectorship. 

As earl}' as 1725, the church people 
dwelling at the water side formed the 
idea of building a new church, but the 
' ' Plains " people being unwilling to 
join them, nothing was done until 17.')8. 
Then, the Rev. Mr. Plant and Joseph 
Atkins, esq., each having oflered to 
present fifty pounds towards building a 
new church at the '' Port," the founda- 
tion of one was laid at the head of 
Queen, now Market street. The church 
was not completed until 1740. It was 
arranged that Mr. Plant should officiate 
at both chui'ches. This caused some 
difficulty, which was happily settled. 
In 1751 Mr. Edward Bass was chosen 
to assist Mr. Plant, who died in 1753. 
For a while a monthly service was held 
in Queen Ann's Chapel, but, as time 
passed, this gradually became discon- 
tinued, and the building fell into decay. 

The Rev. Edward Bass, though ad- 
vanced to the bishopric of Massachu- 
setts, still continued to officiate at St. 
Paul's church. He died the 10th of 
September, 1803, and the Rev. James 
Morse was settled the November fol- 
lowing. 

In 1800 the present church was l)uilt. 
I have a recollection of the old build- 
ing, which was small and painted light 
yellow. This church had been fur- 
nished with an organ, the first in the 
town. This organ is a noted instru- 
ment, being the oldest in America. It 
was built by J. Preston, in York, Elng- 
land. Having been detained in his 
workshop, it escaped destruction at the 
time of the pious raid upon organs in 
the churches b}' Cromwell's soldiers. 
At the commencement of the last cen- 
tury it v/as brought to Boston by 
Thomas Brattle, and presented to 



King's Chapel in that city, but so strong 
was the feeling in New England against 
anything savoring of popery that it re- 
mained a long time in the packing case 
in the porch. At length, in 1714. it 
was set up, and used for forty years, 
when it was bought by the society of 
St. Paul's. In that church it sent forth 
its melody for more than two genera- 
tions. Some years since, a larger or- 
gan having been procured, the venera- 
ble relic was purchased by the society 
of St. John's church, in Portsmouth, 
N. H. When a girl, my mother at- 
tended St. Paul's to hear the novel in- 
strument. She was highly delighted 
with the music and much impressed b^- 
the service, and the grandeur of the 
Daltons, Atkins, Cutlers, Hoopers, 
Jacksons, John Tracy's, and other fam- 
ilies of ton who worshipped there. 

The corner-stone of the present 
church was laid- with masonic ceremo- 
nies. The altar, aisles and gallery are 
as when built, but the first pews were 
room}' compartments, with high, pan- 
eled sides. The pulpit was peculiarly 
graceful, rising from a pillar and spread- 
ing like a wineglass. Above it hung a 
sounding-board, equally elegant in de- 
sign. Before the reading desk was a 
lower one for the clerk. Either side of 
the entrance to the liroad aisle were 
two small pews, with high, ornamental 
partitions ; from the front corners of 
each to the right and left, uprose two 
tall, briglitly-painted poles, terminating 
at the top b}' gilded balls. These pews 
were the seats for the church wardens, 
and the rods were the warden's poles, 
which in those days pla3-ed no unim- 
portant part in the ceremonies of the 
service, being borne in state b}' the 
wardens, as, with majestic step, the}- 
preceded the bishop up the broad 



OF A NO:N^AGEl^AilIAl^. 



199 



aisle upon his entrance into the 
church. They also did good service 
in the discipline of the more 3'outh- 
ful worshippers — the fear of a rap 
on the pate from these eml)lazoned 
poles being inculcated with becoming 
seriousness by the matrons of the so- 
ciety, as they marshalled their bright, 
frolicsome troops of boys and girls 
across the portals of the sacred edifice. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

The Rev. Samuel Belcher having be- 
come aged and infirm, returned to Ips- 
wich, his native place, where he died 
March 12th. 1715, universally mourned 
and esteemed. 

The Rev. John Tufts was ordained 
over the society at Fipestave hill in 
1714. Mr. Tufts possessed a fine taste, 
and, for those days, superior skill in 
music. To improve the singing in his 
choir and those of other churches, the 
year after his settlement he published a 
small work on music, which was sold 
for sixpence a copy or five shillings per 
dozen. Few tunes were then used — 
York, Hackney, St. Mary's, Windsor, 
and Martyrs, were the principal. In 
most congregations the singing was en- 
tirely by rote, which was considered 
papistical by the more rigid ; and Mr. 
Tuft's attempt to improve sacred music 
was a daring innovation that for a time 
met much 0|/position. 

In January, 1716, the church in the 
west precinct kept a day of humiliation 
and prayer, to petition that God would 
' ' prevent the spread of errors in the 
place, especially the error of quakers." 
The causes that had driven some into 



episcopac}' had led others to join the 
"Friends." The sons of Mr. John 
Hoag having embraced the doctrines of 
that sect, others became interested 
and meetings were held at private 
houses. The first of these gatherings 
was at the dwelling of Mr. Samuel 
Sa3'er. A societ}- was formed, which, 
in the summer of 1744, erected a meet- 
ing-house on a site nearly opposite the 
present Belleville church. 

On Feb. 26th, 1738, a council was 
called, in the west parish, to consider 
' ' the distressed state and condition of 
ye second church of Clii'ist in Newbury, 
by reason of the re^-erend pastor, Mr. 
John Tufts, being chai-ged b}' a woman, 
or women, of his indecent carriage, 
also of his abusive and unchristian be- 
iiavior towards them at several times, 
and so forth." 

This council consisted of ten clergy- 
men and twent}- delegates. Mr. Tufts 
refused to unite with the council and 
opposed the swearing of witnesses, and 
immediately asked his dismission, which 
was granted, the church refusing to 
give him a recommendation elsewhere. 
He was succeeded by Thomas Barnard, 
who was dismissed in 1751. The Rev. 
Moses Hale was ordained the same 
year. He married Mehitable Dummer, 
and was the only pastor, amongst the 
long list of those that have been or- 
dained over this society, who spent his 
life among liis people. He died in 
1779. 

The meeting-house on Pipestave hill 
had become somewhat dilapidated ; by 
the setting off of the fourth parish, it 
was no longer in a central localit}' ; 
then, many objected to climbing the 
long hUl. As expensive repairs were 
necessary, it was proposed to move the 
building a quarter of a mile below on 



200 



REMLN'ISCEI^CES 



the main road, at the corner of the one 
leading to the river. This raised a 
storm of objections, but finall}', in 1758, 
the seventh 3'ear of Mr. Hale's pas- 
torate, the plan was effected. The 
house, which was a good-sized struc- 
ture, without a tower, was repaired and 
remodeled. The parsonage, which lay 
below on Pipestave hill, was retained 
b}" the parish for some j^ears. It is 
still standing in good preservation. 

The Rev. True Kimball was settled 
in 1782, and dismissed in 1797. His 
successor, the Rev. Samuel Tomb, 
was ordained the next 3'ear. He was 
dismissed in 1808, the same year that 
Dr. Woods left tlie fourth parish for 
the seminary at Andover. Great scan- 
dal had been raised in the parish re- 
specting Parson Tomb's ill treatment 
of a little girl, bound as a servant in 
his familv. It was alleged that, being 
unmercifully whipped for every slight 
offence, to screen herself, the child be- 
came an adept at deceit. To punish 
her for lying, the minister, it was said, 
tied her tongue to her great toe. Such 
discontent was aroused that the rever- 
end gentleman asked a dismission, 
which was granted, though man}' of the 
society' discredited the stories about 
him. My father would not accept Dr. 
Woods' ministr}' ; after the Slade meet- 
ing-house at Byficld was closed he at- 
tended service at the lower parish. 

After Mr. Tomb's departure the 
pulpit was for a time supplied b}' a Mr. 
HiiU. A part of the societ}', in which 
my father vv'as included, were much 
pleased with Parson Hull's preaching, 
declaring it to be good Arminian doc- 
trine, but the more Calvinistic portion, 
who were a majority, pronounced it 
tame and unsound. ^ Old Mr. Ben. 
Poore (father of Dr. Poore) in his most 



emphatic manner, declared, "His name 
is Hull and he was hull indeed." In 
consequence Mr. Hull did not receive a 
a call, and the Rev. Ebenezer Hubbard 
was ordained in May, 1809. Persons 
at that time were assessed for the sup- 
port of the gospel according to their 
propert}'. My father had paid the 
3'ear's tax at the lower parish. To- 
wards spring, to his surprise, the col- 
lector of the upper parish also present- 
ed a bill. Father produced the one he 
had paid, but the collector, Mr. Bailey, 
said : ' ' The law required every one to 
pa_y in his own parish unless the}' at- 
tended on the worship of a different 
sect. As the lower pnrish was Congre- 
gationalist, as well as the upper, he 
must pay a tax to the society in the 
parish where he resided." Father re- 
fused to comph' with the demand, and 
Mr. Baile}' took two of our best cows 
from the barnyard and drove them 
down the lane. Mother cried, but 
father laughed and sat down to dinner. 
When the meal was over we saw the 
cows standing by the cowyard bars, 
and nothing more was done about the 
tax bill. Uncle Enoch Little invited 
father to take a seat in his pew at the 
Baptist meeting-house in New Rowlej^, 
which he did. As, after Parson Woods 
left, the services in our parish were ir- 
regular, mother or some of the family 
generally accompanied him. After a 
while it became the settled place of 
worship, and, in later years, my mother 
united with that church. 

As the service in Queen Ann's Chap- 
el became gradually discontiitued, a 
new Congregationalist society was 
formed in that quarter. For a time, 
with the permission of the Episcopal 
society, they occupied the old chapel, 
but after a while a small, plain build 



OF A IfOITAGENAEIA:?^. 



201 



ing was put up, a little above Queen 
Ann's, and on Sept. 1, 1762, the Rev. 
Oliver Noble was ordained. Fatber 
Noble, as he was commonly st_yled, was 
a somewhat eccentric character. With 
a quick eye and ready wit at barter and 
sale, he could turn an honest penny 
with any one ; and, as his congregation 
was small, and it was not eas}' to raise 
even the limited stipend to which he 
was entitled, it was convenient to eke 
out a living b}' his own exertions. 
Some few j^ears after his settlement his 
wife died, and the bereaved husband 
preached her funeral sermon, which he 
had printed. Stuffing his saddle bags, 
he mounted his old ho]*se, known as 
" Noble's frame," and proceeded to 
peddle his sermon over the country. 
My father, then a lad, in after years 
used to give a laughable description of 
his visit at Crane-neck. He rode 
rode up one warm afternoon, hab- 
ited in a long, flowing, black flannel 
gown, and, with tears and piteous sighs, 
told his grief, ending by the i^resenta- 
tion of the sermon, which was pur- 
chased, with sympathetic condolence, 
'while, at the same time, warning glanc- 
es were threateningly cast to Jim and 
the other boys and girls who were 
snickering in the l)ackground. 

At' the time of the depreciation of 
the continental mone_v, two gentlemen 
in Bradford having obtained an inkling 
of the probable state of the market, 
held a consultation respecting the best 
method of ridding themselves of a 
quantity of bills which they held. It 
was suggested by one, that they should 
ride down to Father Noble's, and trade 
off the currency' for some land that 
the clergyman had for sale. ''Grass- 
hopper plains" was warm, drj- land, 
very suitable for earl}- crops, and es- 



pecially good for corn. This plan was 
carried into effect. The Parson re- 
ceived his visitors with great urbanity ; 
he was not the man however to be be- 
hindhand in knowledge respecting pub- 
lic events, or business in general, and 
the trick which the gentlemen inten- 
ded to play, was instantly divined. 
Though the land on the plains had all 
the good qualities the Bradford man 
had mentioned, every one at all con- 
versant with that locality knows that 
there are several acres back from the 
river consisting of sandy knolls, a 
somewhat singular conformation, which 
are almost worthless, would scarcely 
subsist a small number of the insects 
from which the plains derive their 
name. The Parson at that time had 
quite a lot of this land which he was 
desii'ous to put into a more profitable 
investment ; he was therefore willing to 
bargain, not too eager, but to accom- 
modate the gentlemen, after a time the 
purchase was effected. Father Noble, 
shaking with inward chuckles, received 
the condemned bills, which before the 
news of their loss of value became 
general he disposed of very satisfac- 
torily. At the time of the pm-chase 
the land was covered with snow, and 
the gentlemen anxious to get rid of the 
notes, took but a cursory look, and had 
not been particular in enquiries respect- 
ing it. As the spring advanced some- 
how the story of the sale became bruit- 
ed about, and the would be biters 
were informed that thej^ had been un- 
mercifully bitten. Accordingly they 
rode down to take a survey of the 
land. Scarcely liking the lay of it 
they went with their protest to the 
Parson. Father Noble was all fair 
and square. "He should be sony to 
do anything wrong, he was to exchange 
26 



202 



REMINISCENCES 



the next Sunday with Parson Dutch : 
he would remain in Bradford over 
night, and Monday morning the gentle- 
men might call upon him and talk the 
matter over " Accordniglv, on Sun- 
day Parson Noble appeared in tlie })ul- 
pit of the Bradford meeting-house. 
The morning service passed as usual, 
but in the afternoon the congregation 
were favored b}' a specimen of pulpit 
eloquence Avhich caused a universal sen- 
sation. The house was crowded, and 
knowing what was pending, an unusual 
expectancy was felt. The psalms and 
prayer over, the preacher with pecuhar 
emphasis named his text: "I have 
bought a piece of ground, and 1 must 
needs go to see it." To see it was 
the pith of the discourse, which was so 
apt, and the would be deceit of the 
complainants was so deftly shown, that 
they turned all colors and writhed in 
their pews, while the rest of ths audi- 
ence had much ado to preserve the de- 
corum proper for ^^ Sabba' day." The 
next morning the two gentlemen rode 
over to the parsonage. As was cus- 
tomary. Parson Dutch produced the 
liquor case, sugar, hot water, pipes and 
tobacco. The quartette drank healths, 
smoked, conversed upon the weather, 
the crops, and the state of the country', 
but not a lisp was made respecting the 
land sale. Towards noon Father No- 
ble in his most genial manner, with fer- 
vent wishes for the temporal and spirit- 
ual welfare of his friends, bade them 
good morning, and wended his way 
down the main roacl, in high esteem 
with himself and his grasshopper land 
speculation. 

A man like the Rev. Oliver Noble 
could not be expected to remain in a 
small parish like that at the Plains, 
neither was it probable that as a spirit- 



ual guide he gave universal satisfaction. 
He resigned his charge April 7, 1784. 
Afterwards he was settled in New Cas- 
tle, N. H., where he died in 1792, aged 
fifty-six. 

After his departure, preaching was 
for a time held irregularly in '' Noble's 
meeting-house," but *at length was 
wholly discontinued, and the old build- 
ing fell into decay ; finally, one stormy 
winter night it blew down. 

In 1807 a new society was formed in 
that locality, a new meeting-house erect- 
ed on High street, and the Rev. James 
Miltimore was settled in April, 180<s. 

In 1702 the parish, afterwards called 
B^'field, was incorporated. This was 
taken from the towns of Rowle}- and 
Newbur}', and at first was designated 
Rowlbury. Two years later it Avas 
named Byfield in honor of Judge Na- 
thaniel Byfield. The first pastor of 
the new parish was the Rev. Moses 
Hale ; he was succeeded bj' the Rev. 
Moses Parsons, who died in 1783. The 
Rev. Elijah Parish was ordained in 
1787. 

The pastorate of the Ri:v. Mr. I'ar- 
sons was memorable for a- contest be- 
tween the clergyman and one of the 
church officers. Deacon Benjamin Col- 
man, on the subject of slave rv. At that 
time nearly every family owned ohe or 
more negro slaves. IMy great-grandfath- 
er Noyes had a man named Primus, of 
whom the grandchildren were especially 
fond. He was a church member and 
ver}" much respected. As Dea. Nojes' 
favorite servant, Primus considered 
himself somewhat of an important per- 
sonage, and always comported himself 
with suittTble dignity. jMy great-grand- 
father Smith owned a black maid ; 
great-grandsir Little a man ; this couple 
were married. The husband usual] v 



OF A NOIiTAGEN^AIlIAN. 



203 



came to great-grandfather Smith's to 
sleep, but on very pleasant evenings 
the wife would go over to great-grand- 
sir Little's to visit her husband. The 
agreement at their marriage, between 
their owners, had been, if there were 
children to divide them. Two or three 
were born< but the}' were swept awa}' 
with those of their masters, by the 
throat distemper, the year it made such 
ravage in New England. 

As Violet, the Rev. Mr. Parsons's 
woman, like most head servants in a 
large family, literally "ruled the 
roast." being a perfect autocrat in the 
kitchen, and a presiding genius in every 
department of the household, holding 
an affectionate l)ut unquestioned sway 
over the bevy of bright, roguish boj-s 
that were reared in the parsonage, the 
zealous deacon could not have founded 
his complaint upon any but conscien- 
tious scruples. The principle of slave- 
ry was the sin against which he con- 
tended, thus unwittingly becoming pio- 
neer in a cause which has produced 
such momentous results. Church meet- 
ing after church meeting was held. 
The deacon was suspended for indecor- 
ous language respecting his pastor, and 
the discussion continued until after the 
clergyman's decease, when at a church 
meeting on the 26th of October. 1785, 
Deacon Colman, after having acknowl- 
edged, "that in his treatment of the 
Rev. Moses Parsons, the late worths- 
pastor of the church, he urged his ar- 
iJ-uments against the slavery of the Af- 
ricans with vehemence and asperity' , 
without showing a due concern for his 
character and usefulness as an elder, 
or the peace and edicfiation of the 
church," he was restored to the church 
and the deaconship. 

In 1762 an academy building was 



erected, and a committee chosen in By- 
field parish to appoint a grammar school 
master, according to the will of Gov. 
Dummer. The acadeni}' was opened 
on Monday, Feb. 27, 1763. The Rev. 
Moses Parsons preached a sermon on 
the occasion from the text, " The 
liberal soul deviseth liberal things." 
The first preceptor, as previousl}' sta- 
ted, was Mr. Samuel Moody. The 
school, by the Governor's will, was 
made free to the boys of the parish ; 
those from abroad paid the usual tuition. 
This academy immediatel}' took rank 
with the first in the country — a repu- 
tation which has been ably sustained. 

April 27. 1778, the inhabitants of 
Byfield were startled by a phenomenon 
usually termed the "Flying Giant." 
The following description is from the 
diary of Deacon Daniel Chute : 

"Yesterday, l)eing the Lord's day, 
the first Sunday after Easter, about 
five of the clock in the p. m., a most 
terrible, and as most men do conceive 
supernatural thing took place. A form 
as of a giant, I suppose rather under 
than over twenty feet high, walked 
throiigh the air from somewhere nigh 
the Governor's school, where it was 
first spied by some bo^^s, till it past 
the meeting-house, where INIr. Whit- 
tam, who was driving home his cows, 
saw it, as well as the cows also, which 
ran violently bellowing. Sundry on 
the whole road from the meeting-house 
to Deacon Searles' house, saw and 
heard it, till it vanished from sight nigh 
Hunslow's hill, as Deacon Searles saw. 
It strode so fast as a good horse might 
gallop, and two or three feet above the 
ground, and Avhat more than all we ad- 
mired, it went through walls and fences 
as one goes through water, _yet were 
they not 43roken or overthrown. It 
was black, as it might be dressed in 
cloth indeed, yet were we so terrified 
that none observed what manner if at 
all it was habited. It made continn- 



204 



REMi:NriSCENCES 



all}' a terrifying scream, ' hoo, lioo.' so 
that some women fainted." 

The majority of the people, the Rev. 
Moses Parsons included, beheved this 
spectre to be the devil taking a walk to 
oversee his mundane affairs. Deacon 
Benjamin Colman published an ac- 
count of this occurrence in the Essex 
Journal and New Hampshire Packet. 
This was in the midst of his controver- 
sy with Mr. Parsons on the slavery 
question, and he attributed the diabol- 
ical visitation to the heinous sin of 
slave-holding by the pastor of the par- 
ish, followed by quaint theological spec- 
ulations, in the deacon's strong and 
fearless stvle. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

In 1725 the Third parish in Newburv 
erected a meeting-house at the water 
side, fronting on Fish street. Many 
entertained serious doubts of the desir- 
abilit}' of this church. Mr. William 
Moody, writing to his brother, Judge 
Sewell in Boston, says: "Our people 
at towne are going to l)uild another 
meeting-house, but intend to set it so 
'nigh to Mr. Toppan's, that I fear it 
will make great contention." 

The new house was dedicated the 
20th of June ; the Rev. John Tufts 
preached the sermon. On January 19. 
1726, the Rev. John Lowell was or- 
dained, the sermon was by the Rev. 
Thomas Foxcroft of Boston. 

The Lowles or Lowells are a ver}- 
ancient famil}', dating back to the 
reign of Richard the Second. Mr. Per- 
cival Lowle, born in Yardley county, 
Worcester, a merchant of Bristol, Eng- 



land, in 1639, with his two sons, John 
and Richard, came to Newbmy, where 
John married his last wife, Naomi Syl- 
vester ; their youngest son, Ebenezer, 
went to Boston and became a mer- 
chant ; he married Elisabeth Shale : 
their oldest son, the Rev. John Lowell, 
was born in Boston, March .14, 1704 ; 
Dec. 23, 1725, he married Sarah Cliamp- 
ne}'. After his ordination, Parson 
Lowell commenced housekeeping on 
Greenleaf's lane, now State street. 
After the clergj'man's decease, the es- 
tate having been purchased by Mr. Na- 
thaniel Tracy for the site of a new 
mansion, tlie house was moved to Tem- 
ple street. Two sons were born to the 
young couple ; one died in infancy, the 
other, the distinguished Judge Lowell, 
and his noted descendants, have a world 
wide reputation. 

The posterit}" of the other children 
of Jolm and Richard Lowle are still 
numerous within the precincts of Old 
Newbury and the towns adjacent, prom- 
inent and respected citizens, while oth- 
ers of equal worth are settled in differ- 
ent sections of the country. 

Botli I'nrson and Madam Lowell 
were assiduous in advancing the spirit- 
ual and intellectual welfare of the par- 
ish. 

Notwithstanding the expense of build- 
ing a new meeting-house, the parish 
duplicated the town's appropriation for 
educational purposes, and in 1731 hired 
Mr. John Woodbridge to teach Latin 
to the youth of the parish, at sixt}^ 
pounds a 3'ear ; scholars out of the 
parish were to pay fourpence or six 
cents a week. 

At that period the minister's lad}' 
was preeminently the head .of feminine 
society. Her position was much more 
marked, and her duties far more on- 



OF A NOlSTAGElSrAIlIAlSr. 



205 



erous than at present. As chief lady 
in the parish, and mistress of a house- 
hold distinguished for hospitalitj', Mad- 
am Lowell won encomiums from old 
and young, rich and poor. Possessing 
tact, quick perception, and decision of 
character, united to great skill and no- 
tability in domestic affairs, with rare 
culture and accomplishments for those 
days, her precept and example was well 
calculated to raise the standard of fe- 
male character in her husband's parish. 
My great-grandfather Johnson and his 
wife held Parson and Madam Lowell in 
the most affectionate esteem and rever- 
ence. Called to the ministry a few 
years later than Mr. Lowell, Mr. John- 
son often spoke of the interest mani- 
fested and the assistance rendered him 
b}' his pastor while he was pursuing 
his studies. Madam Johnson, the 
daughter of Dr. Humphre}' Bradstreet, 
though younger, was a dear friend of 
Madam Lowell. I have frequently 
heard m}^ grandmother Little speak of 
the gratitude her mother often ex- 
pressed for Madam Lowell's advice 
and sympathy, when, young and inex- 
perienced, she assumed the responsible 
position of a clergyman's wife. Mad- 
am Lowell dieclinlToG ; my great grand- 
father was one of the pall bearers. In 
those- days it was customary at the 
funeral of persons of note, to present 
in addition to the usual crape bands 
and silk gloves, a gold ring as a memo- 
rial of the departed. M}' grandfather's 
mourning ring descended to me. It is 
a thick, plain ring of the old fashioned 
yellow gold ; on the outside is engraved 
the then usual insignia of death, a skull 
and cross bone ; within is inscribed : 
"Sarah Lowell ob. 28 of June, 1756, 
JE. 52." The Rev. John Tucker was 
also a pall bearer, and a similar ring 



has been preserved by his descend- 
ants. 

Parson Lowell married as a second 
wife, Elisabeth, widow of the Rev. 
William A. Whipple, of Hampton 
Falls. Mr. Lowell died 15th of May 
1767, in his 64th year. His loss was 
keenly felt by the bereaved parish. 
The Rev. John Tucker in the sermon 
preached at the funeral, says of him, 
'' He was endowed with good natural 
powers, which he improved by stud}', 
under the advantages of a liberal ed- 
ucation. He was not only acquainted 
with those polite arts, and sciences, 
which distinguished him as a scholar 
and a gentleman, but was well furnish- 
ed with that kind of knowledge, which 
was requisite to forming his character, 
and enabling him while 3'oung, to ap- 
pear with advantage as a minister of 
the gospel. In his domestic and social 
connections and behavior ; in his pri- 
vate conversation, both as a christian 
and a minister, he maintained a good 
reputation. He was a lover of good 
men though of different denominations 
and differing sentiments, and much 
given to hospitality." 

Over the fire-place in the dining 
room of Parson Lowell's residence was 
a painted panel representing a group 
of clergymen seated around a table, on 
which were a punch bowl and tobacco 
dish. Above this he had inscribed in 
Latin the motto "In essentials, unit}'; 
in non-essentials libert}', in all things 
charity." 



206 



REMINISCENCES 



The arms of Lowle, Somersetshire 
and Yardle}', are : 




SA, A HAND COtTPED AT THE WRIST, GRASPING THREE 
' DARTS, ONE IN PALE AND TWO IN SALTIRE AZ. 
CREST— A stag's HEAD EMBOSSED OR, BE- 
TWEEN THE ALTIRES A PHEON AZ. 

Two candidates supplied the pulpit 
of the Third church for several months, 
the Rev. Christopher B. Marsh of Bos- 
ton and Thomas Care}' of Charlestown. 
Both of these young gentlemen were 
graduates of Harvard, but Mr. Marsh 
had embraced more rigid — in the par- 
lance of the time, " Hopkinsian" views 
— while Mr. Carey followed in the 
footsteps of the fathers. Mr. Carey, 
having received the votes of two thirds 
of the parish, was ordained on the 11th 
of May, 1768. The other third amic- 
abl}' separated from the Third parish, 
receiving their share of the church 
plate, and formed a new society'. They 
erected a meeting-house on Titcoml) 
street, and the Rev. Mr. Marsh was 
ordained the 19th of October, 1768. 
He died in 1773, and was succeeded 
by the Rev. Samuel Spring in 1777. 

Parson Care}' was stricken with pal- 
sy after the morning service on Sunday, 
March 9, 1788, and a colleague was 
appointed. The Rev. John Andrews, 
born at Hingham, March 3, 1764 ; 



graduated at Harvard in 1786 ; mar- 
ried, Sept. 8, 1788, Margaret, oldest 
daughter of Rev. Prof. Edward and 
Margaret Wigglesworth ; was ordained 
over the First society, Newburyport. 
Dec. 10, 1788 ; received the degree of 
D. D. at Harvard College in 1824 ; re- 
signed his pastoral charge May 1, 1830. 
He died in August, 1845. 

Through the preaching of Whitefield 
and the influence of the ''great awak- 
ening," several persons became dissatis- 
fied with the doctrines in which they had 
been reared. These " new schemers" 
were vehemently opposed by Mr. Top- 
pan, and as firmly by jMr. Lowell, })oth 
denouncing their meetings as "irregular 
and disorderly." Rev. John Tucker 
having been settled colleague with Mr. 
Toppan, the opposition strengthened, 
and in 1743 the "Separatists" held 
their first public assembly in a barn 
near the upper green, in Oldtown. A 
small house of worship was soon after 
erected on Norfolk, now High street, 
just below Federal street, Mr. Joseph 
Adams, a young graduate of Harvard 
University, ofiKciating as minister. The 
"Separatists" having anathematized 
the parent church as "Old Dagon," 
in retaliation the new one received the 
soubriquet of " Young Dagon." The 
new house, which was never entirely 
finished, blew down in a severe thun- 
derstorm, a catastrophe that brought 
exceeding satisfaction to the opposition, 
who piously regarded it as a just judg- 
ment sent b}' the indignant hand of an 
outraged Deity. 

On January 3, 1746, nineteen per- 
sons withdrew from the First church 
and formed a new church. Thirt}-- 
eight, three 3-ears previous, had with- 
drawn from communion with the Third 
church. As their petition for dismis- 



OF A JfOl^AGEN'ABIAlf. 



207 



sion from that church and a recom- 
mendation to the new church was de- 
nied, the}' were admitted to that hod}- 
without a recommendation. On tlie 
22d of the same month, acting on the 
advice of Whitefield, the " Separatists" 
extended a call to the Rev. Jonathan 
Parsons to become their pastor. This 
invitation was accepted, and the instal- 
lation took place on the 19th of March. 
This church, not being yet united to 
a Presbytery, was styled "Indepen- 
dent." The installation services were 
conducted entirely by the people and 
the pastor-elect. Having mutually 
pledged themselves to support each 
other in the work of the gospel, Mr. 
Parsons offered prayer and preached a 
sermon. On the 7th of April the or- 
ganization of the church was completed 
by the choice of six ruling elders, and 
the September follo^\-ing it united with 
the Presbytery of Boston. Much 
trouble arose respecting the assessment 
of taxes, as the first and third parishes 
insisted upon the right to tax the se- 
ceders. An appeal|was made by the 
Presbyterians to Gov. Shirley, and va- 
rious other methods used, for years, to 
obtain redress, but without effect, until 
the different societies became distinct 
corporations, which act was passed 
Feb. 22, 1794. The Presbyterian so- 
ciety erected the church on Federal 
street in 1756. On Sunday morning, 
Sept. 30, 1770, George Whitefield died, 
at the residence of Rev. Jonathan Par- 
sons, and his remains were interred un- 
der the pulpit of that church. Mr. Par- 
sons died in 1776, and the Rev. John 
Murray was ordained in 1781. He 
died in 1793, and was succeeded by the 
Rev. Daniel Dana, Nov. 19, 1794. 

January 28, 1764, that part of New- 
bury now called Newburypoi't was in- 



corporated as a separate town, and the 
Third church of Newljury became the 
First of Newburyport. As the old 
meeting-house on Fish street had be- 
come time-worn, and too small to ac- 
commodate the large congregation, in 
1801 the church on Pleasant street was 
erected. This edifice, built by Daniel 
Spofford and Amos Palmer, was the 
most splendid in the vicinity, and a 
model of architectural beauty. Its 
erection created a great sensation. 
The Rev. Mr. Carey was able to preach 
the last sermon in the old house, which 
was on Sept. 27th. This sermon 
showed that, though weak in body, the 
clergyman's mind was wholly unim- 
paired. 

The next morning a vast crowd as- 
sembled to witness the demolition of 
' ' ye ancient meeting-'us . " I have often 
heard David Emery, then a lad of six- 
teen, and my cousin, Sophronia Pea- 
body, describe the scene. The sup- 
ports, excepting at one corner, having 
been removed, a hawser was placed 
around the post, and a band of sailors, 
with " a long pull, a strong pull, and a 
pull all together," brought the large 
building to the ground, amidst clouds 
of dust and the huzzas of the multi- 
tude. Gen. Peabody entertained the 
ladies who had gathered in the cham- 
bers of his store with wines and 
cordials from the cellar, and my cousin, 
then a child, thought pulling down 
meeting-houses a dehghtful event, 
which she wished might happen every 
day. 

The Third church in Newbury from 
the first was progressive. In 1750 
they voted, nemine contradicente, that 
' ' the scriptures be read in publick on 
the Lord's day." Reading from the 
Bible in the pulpit was not customary 



208 



REME^ISCElSrCES 



amongst the first congregations. I 
never remember hearing a chapter read 
until Parson Woods was ordained, 
and he onl}^ did so occasionaUy. In 
1769 the church at Oldtown voted to 
introduce the Scriptures at public woi'- 
ship. When I first went to meeting, 
Watts' psalms and hymns were in use 
and they had been generally adopted 
b}" the churches. 

In 1794 an organ was placed in the 
First church in Newburyport. It was, 
for those days, a large and handsome 
instrument. Round the top of the 
pipes were festoons of crimson silk ; 
above them, in large gold letters, was 
the motto, " Praise Him with Organs." 
This remarkalile innovation greath' 
shocked the more rigid, and the new 
instrument became the chief topic of 
conversation in town and country, in 
the commercial mart, and b}- the do- 
mestic hearth. 'It was denominated a 
"papistical device — a popish fiddle." 
Much was said about the "• tooting 
tub." and '■ sarving the Uivil on an 
orgin," while the Rev. Samuel Spring 
discoursed most disdainful^ respecting 
" our neighbor's box of whistles." 
Notwithstanding the opposition, the or- 
gan retained its place, sending forth 
melody Sundaj^ after Sunda}', in the 
old meeting-house, and, with the bell 
and weathercock, was transferred to 
the new church. The interior of this 
building has received ]:)ut little altera- 
tions. The front gallery pews were 
square, and when first erected the pul- 
pit was higher than now, and sur- 
mounted by the sounding-board, then 
considered necessar}- for a speaker. 
This pulpit was reached by stairs lead- 
ing from the back porch, and the plat- 
form beneath it was railed off like an 
altar ; two gates opened into this com- 



partment, to the right and left ; with- 
in, in front, was the communion table, 
behind it stood three large arm chairs, 
with crimson seats. The pulpit cush- 
ion was of crimson velvet. From the 
centre of the ceiling depended a large 
glass chandelier for wax candles. It is 
a thousand pities this had not been 
preserved, as " a thing of beauty is a 
joy forever." 

In those days evening services were 
rare events. When Dr. Parish was or- 
dained, the parish in common with ev- 
er3' other was so much divided on doc- 
trinal points, that nmch vexation and 
delay occurred. It was not until 
the evening of the third day after the 
council had been convened that the or- 
dination services took place. The par- 
ish ever after celebrated the anniver- 
sary- of his ordination l)y an evening 
meeting. On one occasion I accompa- 
nied Mrs. Moses Cohnan. She took a 
pair of tall brass candlesticks and 
mould candles with her. The candle- 
sticks were placed on the ledge on the 
front of the square pew, and the can- 
dles lighted that we might see the 
hymns. Nearl}^ every pew was similar- 
ly hghted, there were candlebra on the 
pulpit, and candles on the communion 
table and in the singing seats ; a few 
in tin sconces were hung along the 
walls, still the house was not very 
lirilliantly illuminated. The Pleasant 
street meeting-house was dedicated in 
October. The sermon was preached 
by the Rev. John Andrews ; the music 
was unusually fine ; altogether it was a 
great occasion. A dense mass of hu- 
man beings filled every available space 
of the large church ; the ladies were 
resplendent with elegance, many stran- 
gers were present, and the dignitaries 
of the 'town and parish; the clay was 



OF A ]S'0:N'AGEN'AKIAN. 



209 



a festal one throughout the place. 

Upon their removal to '' Port," both 
Gen. Peabody nnd Col. Bartlett joined 
the first society, but in a few years, as 
their wives inclined to the more Calviu- 
istic preaching at the Old South, pews 
were taken there. Both ladies soon af- 
ter became communicants, and all the 
Pealjody children, with the exception 
of the youngest, who was born in the 
District of Columbia, were baptized at 
this font. 

Sophronia Peabod}^ accompanied her 
uncle Leonard Smith to the dedication. 
Mr. Smith had purchased the upper 
corner wall pew on the side towards 
Green street, and to accommodate his 
large family two pews had been let into 
one. This pew was so crowded, Fronie 
and her cousin, Sophy Smith, were 
were perched on the window seat, where 
they vastly enjoyed the scene. 

The new church gave great satisfac- 
tion, and for several years was crowded 
every Sunday. This society" counted 
amongst its members many eminent 
persons. Patrick and Nathaniel C. 
Tracy, Judge Parsons, and his law 
students, amongst which was John 
Quincy Adams, the discarded lover of 
Miss Mary Fraiser, the daughter of 
Moses Fraiser, esq., whose pew was in 
close contiguity to that occupied b}' 
young Adams, whom the Fraiser fami- 
ly did not consider a sufficiently bril- 
liant parti for the loA^ely Mary, then 
one of the celebrated beauties of the 
day. There were the Carters, Daven- 
ports, eTohn Bromfield, the Cross fami- 
lies, Michael Ilodge, Nicholas Brown, 
Col. Edward Wiggles worth, Joseph 
Marquand, Gen. Jonathan Jackson, 
David Moody, Jonathan Greeley, Judge 
Greenleaf and his son Col. Greenleaf, 
Major Joshua Greenleaf, the Balches, 



Stones, Johnsons, Noyeses, Toppans, 
Coffins, Jenkins, Mr. Prout, Mr. Israel 
Young, Dr. Micajah Sawyer, Captain 
Hudson, and many other distinguished 
persons and families. 

The triangular piece of land on which 
the old meeting-house stood, was sold 
to the towii for eight thousand dollars. 
The citizens subscribed thirty-five hun- 
dred of this sum. From this land 
Market square was formed, the well 
dug, and the town pump placed very 
nearl}- on the site of the pulpit of the 
old meeting-house. 



CHAPTER XL. 

In 1729 the inhabitants of the upper 
part of the second parish in Newbury 
petitioned the General Court to divide 
the west parish into two precincts. A 
map drawn that year shows that there 
were one hundred and eighty-four hous- 
es in the parish, and the families num- 
bered one hundred and eiglit3'-three. 

March 20, 1781, the second parish 
voted ' ' to desire the General Court to 
confirm' the setting otf of the fourth par- 
ish from the second," which was don3 by 
a committee, February 22, according to 
a vote passed by the second parish, 
January 6th, consenting to the division. 

April 15th, 1729, the inhabitants of 
the upper part of the west parish, made 
an agreement " to build a meeting-house 
fifty feet b}' thirty-eight, and twenty 
foot stud." This was the old meeting- 
house on Meeting-house hill. The 
Rev. William Johnson was ordained 
over the new j)arish, September 15th, 
1731. 

The Johnsons are an old English 
27 



210 



REMINISCENCES 



family. The first ancestoi- on record 
was Maurice Joliiison, esq., M. P. for 
Stamford in 1523. He bad two sons, 
Robert and Francis. 

Robert Johnson, archdeacon of Lei- 
cester, married Maria ; died in 

1625, leaving one son, Abraham, born 
in 1577. 

Abraham Johnson married Anna 
Meadows in 1597 ; they had one son, 
Isaac. Mrs. Johnson died young, and 
in 1602, Abraham Johnson married a 
second wife, Cicerly Chadderton, by 
whom he had eleven children : Lau- 
rence, Maurice, Robert, WiUiam, Ed- 
ward, Ezekiel, Nicholas. Francis, Hen- 
ry, Cicerly. and Elisabeth. . Mr. John- 
son removed with his family from Mil- 
ton Bryan to Canterbury, county of 
Kent. 

Isaac Johnson, the son of Abraham 
Johnson by his lirst wife, in 1623 was 
unitedjn marriage with the Lady Ara- 
iDclhi -Piennes. This couple with two 
sons by the second wife, William and 
Edward, emigrated from Canteibury 
to America. The earh" death of Lad}' 
Arabella Johnson, which cast so deep 
a gloom over that infant colony in the 
wilderness, has becbme indelibly inter 
woven in the earl}' history of tlie i\Ias- 
sachusetts settlement. 

William Johnson settled in Charles- 
town in 1630, and his brother Edward 
in Woburn. William Johnson in l()o3, 
married Elisabeth Storey of Charles- 
town : they had five children : Rahan- 
na, Elisabeth, Joseph, Jonathan and 
Nathaniel. 

Nathaniel was married in 1668. to 
Joanna Long of Charlestown ; they 
had three children : Nathaniel, William 
and John. 

WilUam Johnson, son of Nathaniel 
and Joanna Johnson, came from Charles- 



town to Newbury in 1698. Nov. 9th, 
1702, he married Martha, third daugh- 
ter of Captain Daniel Pierce of the 
" Pierce " farm, Newbury. They had 
six children : Isaac, William, born May 
31, 1706; Eleazer, EHsabeth, Martha 
and Lydia. William Johnson died in 
1741, aged 70 years. 

William, son of William and Martha 
(Pierce) Johnson, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1727. Soon after his ordina- 
tion, he married Betty, daughter of Dr. 
Humphrey Bradstreet. They had nine 
children : Sarah, Martha, Mary, Do- 
rothy, Anna, Hannah, William, Daniel 
and Bradstreet. 

Sarah married Mr. David Chase, 
who resided on his farm near the pres- 
ent Rocks bridge. 

Martha became the wife of Dr. Wil- 
liam Hale of Old Rowley. 

JNIary married my grandfather, Jo- 
seph Little. 

Dolly was twice married ; first to 
William Folsom, of Newmarket, N.H., 
who died young ; second to Squire 
Blanchard of Chester, N. H. 

Anna married Dr. Tenney of Brad- 
ford ; he died the second year of his 
marriage from the small pox, which he 
took in performing the duties of his 
profession. He was a most promising 
young man, and bis death was sincerely 
mourned throughout the communit}'. 
The widow Tenney married Mr. Joseph 
Moody of Amesl)ury. 

Hannah married Master Simeon 
Chase. 

William, Daniel and Bradstreet set- 
tled in business in Newburyport. Wil- 
liam married Temperance Little ; their 
two daughters. Temperance and Mary, 
died unmarried. The only son, Wil- 
liam, went to Amesbury and engaged 
in the carriage business. 



OF A ]sro]srAGE]srABiA:sr. 



211 



Daniel married Hannah Woodman 
of Newbury, June, 1764; they had 
two daughters, Hannah, who married 
3Ir. Stephen Frothingham, and Betsey, 
svho married Mr. Thomas Beck, and 
went to Portland, Me. Daniel John- 
son's second wife was Mary Horton, 
to whom he was married Feb., 1787. 

Bradstreet Johnson married Susan- 
na Brown, and died childless. 

Madam Betty Johnson died August 
2d, 175G, in the 43d year of her age. 
Parson Johnson married a second wife, 
a widow Sargent, from Amesbury. He 
died February 22d, 1772, in the 40th 
year of his ministr}-, aged 66 years. 
The stone erected by the parish to his 
memory bears this inscription : 

•' He was a gentleman of good uiider- 
standiiig, of uniform piety and vir- 
tue, of a very amiable temper, ten- 
der and affectionate in his family 
connections, a benevolent and faith- 
ful friend." 

Parson Johnson was reverenced and 
beloved in an unusual degree both in 
his family and the parish. My mother 
was his especial pet ; slie could recol- 
lect standing between her grandsire's 
knees, while he taught her the alphabet, 
and though only five years old at his 
decease, she could read the Biljlc quite 
fluently. 

Eleazer, my great-grandfather's 
3'oungest brother, married Elisabeth 
Pearce. They had nine children, 
Eleazer, William Pearce, Nicholas, Jo- 
seph, Philip, Jane, Sarah, Elisabeth and 
Martha. Mrs. Johnson died soon 
after the birth of Martha, and Mr. 
Johnson in 1766, was married to Sa- 
rah Bailey. They had one son, John 
Bailey Johnson. My great uncle. 
Eleazer Johnson, died m 1792. 

Eleazer Johnson jr., married Han- 
nah Greenleaf in 1777. Their children 



were Eleazer, Joseph, Hannah, Abi- 
gail and Jacob Greenleaf. 

William Pearce Johnson married 
Sarah Greenleaf Oct. 1770. Their 
children were Mary, Catharine, Wil- 
liam Pearce, Sarah, Eleazer 4th, and 
Jonathan Greenleaf. 

Nicholas, the third son, married 
Mary, daughter of INIatthew and Anna 
Greenleaf Perkins, Dec. 1776. Their 
children were Nicholas, Anna Green- 
leaf, Mary Perkins, Elisabeth, Sarah, 
Philip, Abel Greenleaf, Benjamin 
Greenleaf, and Henry. 

Joseph, the fourth son, married 
Elisabeth Dole. Their children were 
Joseph, born 1769, died 1785 ; Richard, 
born 1771, lost at sea with Capt. 
Whitcomb and crew in 1718 ; Eleazer, 
born May 9th, 1773, married Sarah 
Newman June Uth, 1797; Elisabeth, 
born July 1775, married Richard Dole. 
Philip, the youngest son, married 
Dolly Noyes in 1773. Their children 
were Dolly, Sally and Philip. 

Jane, the oldest daughter, married 
Nathaniel No well ; Sarah, Phineas 
Parker ; and Martha, Capt. Desaunette. 
Elisabeth, my great-grandfather John- 
son's oldest sister, married Isaac Hall. 
Their daughter, Hannah Hall, married 
Edmund Bartlet ; their children were 
William, and Hannah who died young. 
Mr. William Bartlet married the 
widow Betty (Coombs) Lascom, the 
daughter of Philip and Lydia Johnson 
Coombs ; Martha the second sister, mar- 
ried Ralph Cross ; the youngest, Lydia, 
Philip Coomi)s, who came from .the is- 
land of Guernsey, and was the first of 
the family in "Newburyport ; it was 
their daughter Betty who married 
William Bartlet. 

Isaac Johnson, the first of the name 
in America, and one of the original 



212 



REMINISCENOES 



settlers of Massachusetts, ardved at 
Salem June 12th, 1630, and died Sept. 
30th, following. He ranked by virtue 
of his birth, learning and wealth, next 
to Gov. Winthrop, and was so placed 
in the colonial records. His wife, Ar- 
bella or Arabella, was the daughter of 
Thomas the 14th Earl of Lincoln. 
Gov. Winthrop named the ship in 
which they came to this country for 
her. 

Edward and William, half brothers 
of Isaac, came to America, in 1630. 
probabl}' with Gov. Winthrop. Ed- 
ward was a merchant and historian, 
as he wrote the "Wonder AVorking 
Providence of Zion's Savior," which 
was a history of New England from 
1628 to 1G52. It was printed in Lon- 
don in 1654, and copies of the orig- 
inal edition are highl}' prized bj' bibli- 
ographers. He was also speaker of 
the colonial Legislature, and one of 
the members authorized to treat with 
the commissioners of Charles II. He 
resided at Charlestown, and was one 
of the founders of Woburn, as Isaac 
was of Boston. Edward, as may be 
seen from the foregoing, was a man of 
great note in the colony. He was the 
first of the family in this town, as it is 
recorded that he traded here about the 
year 1634. As this was a year prior 
to the arrival of the party with 
Messrs. i'aiker & No^'es. this trade 
must have been with the Indians, or 
some isolated pioneers. He kept the 
town records of Woljurii from its foun- 
dation until his death. 

Below 1 give some extracts from va- 
rious works regarding Isaac Johnson. 

Bancroft, in his "• Histor}- of the 
United States," says : 

" The zeal of White soon found oth- 
er and powerful associates in, and about 
London, men of rehgious fervour : Win- 



throp, Dudley, Johnson, P^nichon, Ea- 
ton, Saltonstall, BeUingham, etc., fa- 
mous in colonial records." 

In another place it saj'S : 

"The virtues of Arabella Johnson, 
a daughter of the house of Lincoln, 
could not break through the gloomy 
shadows which surrounded her. and as 
she was ill before her arrival, grief 
soon hurried her to the grave. Her hus- 
band, one of the first men in the colo- 
ny, zealous for pure religion, in life 
the greatest furtherer of the plantation, 
and by his bequests a benefactor of 
the infant state, was subdued by the 
force of disease and affliction, but he 
died willingly and in sweet peace, mak- 
a most godly end." 

Lossing's " History of the United 

States," sa3-s : 

"Amongst these was Isaac Johnson, 
a principal leader of the enterprise, 
and the wealtliiest of the founders of 
Piostou, and his wife, the Lady Arabel- 
la, a daughter of the Earl of Lincoln. 
She died at Salem, and her husband 
did not long survive her." 

Blake's Biographical Dictionary con- 
firms what I have noted regarding 
Edward, stating also, that he went to 
Merrimack in 1632 with a license to 
trade. Concerning Isaac it says, "Bos- 
ton was settled under his conduct. 
He had the largest estate of any of 
the colonists, and was the greatest fur- 
therer of the plantation." His lot in 
Boston v.as the square between Tre- 
mout, Washington, Court, and School 
streets, and he was buried at the upper 
end of his lot, which gave occasion for 
the first burial place, to be laid out 
around his grave. This is the church 
yard of King's chapel. His house was 
on a hill near Tremont -street. 

Thomas Johnson, kinsman of Wil- 
liam, was amongst the earliest ship- 
builders on the Merrimack river. He 
owned the siiip-y:u-d near the bottom 



OF A NONAGEN'AIIIAN'. 



213 



of Ship street, and was one of the 
first settlers in that locality. His 
home was on the corner of !Ship and 
Water streets, and at the time it was 
built there was only the residence of 
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet and one 
other house below on Water street. 

William Johnson came from Charles- 
town and succeeded Thomas in the 
business, and soon became a wealthy 
man. In the town records, 1731, we 
find, "Town voted liberty to William 
Johnson and others to build a wharf at 
the foot of Chandler's lane (now Fed- 
eral street." 

The ship carpenters were then one 
of the most influential classes in town, 
and AVilliam Johnson was at their head. 
At his death in 1741 he bequeathed 
one half of his ship yard, aad his 
homestead, corner of AVater and Fed- 
eral streets, to his son Isaac ; his house 
corner of Water and Ship streets and 
the other half of his ship ^ard to his 
son Eleazer. He left legacies to his 
son William, tiie clergyman, and to 
Ms daughter. He was a wealth}^ man 
for those times, and possessed two or 
three farms, well stocked, a number of 
houses, barns, ware-houses, a long 
wharf, a ship yard with all the machin- 
ery, tools and implements of art used 
in the business, lumber, a negro girl, 
etc. The wharf originally cost twenty 
thousand dollars, and as much more 
was afterward spent upon it. AVhen 
it came into the hands of a descendant, 
and the ship yard merged into John- 
son's wharf, some thousands were 
spent in putting a substantial stone 
wall around it. Here Capt. V/ilham 
P. Johnson, who was first a ship car- 
penter, then a successful ship master, 
when the Johnson ship yard was 
no more, on the Johnson wharf, car- 



ried on a large and profitable business. 
He owned the first ship employed in 
freighting in Newburyport, the " In- 
dustr}- " which was employed in taking 
tobacco, from the James river to Eu- 
rope. He can be truly called the 
lather of the freighting business which 
was such a source of profit to the 
place. Capt. Nicholas Johnson, Capt. 
John N. Cushing, and Henry John- 
son, esq., afterwards owners of the 
Johnson wharf, there successfully per- 
sued the same business until their re- 
moval to the ^ Cushing wharf, " which 
is still owned in the family'. The 
Johnson wharf was sold to Mr. Wil- 
liam Bartlett in 1830 for eight thous- 
and dollars, and was called the Bart- 
let wharf. Again in 1855 it was sold 
for forty-two hundred dollars, and has 
passed from the famih'. 

^Villiam Johnson's vessels constantly 
arrived at Newbur^'port, from Hon- 
duras, the West Indies, the Straits, 
and the north of Europe. He was 
the first person in Newburyport who 
put blinds to the windows of his 
house. 

Eleazer Johnson led the band that 
seized the tea and burned it in market 
square before the destruction of the 
tea in Boston harbor. The story is 
as follows : Eleazer Johnson standing 
one day, upon the timber of his yard, 
called his men about him, and after a 
few patriotic w^ords gave the order, 
"all who are ready to join, knock j'our 
adzes from the handles, shoulder the 
handles and follow me." Every adze in 
the 3ard was knocked ott', and' the stout, 
athletic man, who would have marched 
through a regiment of "red coats," 
had they stood in his way, taking his 
broad axe as an emblem of leadership, 
and for use, marched at the head of 



214 



KEMIKESCEIfCES 



the company to the powder-house. 
There that well tried axe opened a 
way through the door, and each Juan 
shouldering a chest of lea, again fell 
into line. They marched direct to 
where INIarket square is now located, 
defiling round the old meeting-house. 
Johnson's axe opened a chest, and box 
and tea were on the ground together, 
each man as he came up followed suit, 
then with his own hand Johnson light- 
ed the pile and burned it to ashes. 

Through the troublous times that fol- 
lowed, the Johnsons stood at the head 
of the " Sons of Liberty." Eleazer's 
sons were, like himself, intelligent, en- 
terprising, and patriotic. His son 
Phihp Volunteered and participated in 
the battle of Bunker Hill. His son 
Eleazer, who commanded a " Letter of 
Marque" in the revolution, the brig 
" Dalton," was captured, and he and 
his crew were imprisoned at Plymouth 
for two or three years, in the famous 
" Old Mill Prison." His son Nicholas, 
who commanded the "Count de Grass," 
was the first to display the stars and 
stripes from his mast-head on the river 
Thames. His son William Pearce John- 
son, master of brig "American Hero," 
in 1776, hearing, when in one of the 
French West Indian islands, that war 
had begun, loaded with arms and am- 
munition, which he safely landed in 
Boston. This was the first material 
aid fin-nished the patriots. Like his 
ancestors, WiUiam P. Johnson pos- 
sessed great muscular power. In a 
test of strength with the late William 
Bartlett, his neighbor, he hfted eigh- 
teen fifty-six pound weights, and was 
declared the strongest man in town. 
Eleazer Johnson was above the ordina- 
ry size, with black hair and eyes. 



The Johnson coat of arms are 



fi^^.^%., ^/^ 




GULES, THKEE SPEA.R HEADS ARGENT, CHIEF ERMINE. 
CREST— KAVEN's WINGS REVERSED. 

The Greeuleafs, with whom the 
Johnsons so frequently intermarried, 
have been a famih^ of great considera- 
tion in Newburyport. Three brothers 
of the name emigrated here. Benja- 
min, a descendant of one of these, 
died in 1783, having been a representa- 
tive in the legislature and otherwise 
honored with marks of pulilic confi- 
dence. Jonathan and Benjamin were 
nephews of the first-named Benjamin. 
The Greeuleafs sprang from the French 
Huguenots. The}" removed to Eng- 
land in the sixteenth century ; thence 
to .America. Stephen Greenleaf, son 
of Edhiund, built one of the earliest 
wharves in the vicinity of the mar- 
ket, in IGSO. On that spot next the 
town landing was the yard in which 
Jonathan Greenleaf, his kinsman, 
worked as a mechanic. Mr. Green- 
leaf became the owner of this 3'ard, 
and furnished many vessels for the 
mother country before the revolution. 
Ite owed all that he was to his industry 
and natural talents ; having few educa- 
tional advantages, he became well in- 
formed, won the confidence of all, and 
was constantly in some public office. 



OF A JS'OI^AGEI^^ARIAJf. 



215 



He was on the first " committee of 
safety " in Revolutionaiy times, was a 
member of the Continental Congress, 
of the governor's council, the State 
senate, and a representative to General 
Court for man}' 3'ears. In 1782 the 
town of Newbury port \'oted thanks 
for his long and faithful service in Gen- 
eral Court. He was considered one of 
the great men of his day ; one of the 
ablest, most eloquent, and most influ- 
ential men, a man of such persuasive 
powers that he was commonly, known 
by the designation of "Silver Tongue." 



CHAPTER XLl. 

The Rev. David Toppan, the succes- 
sor of the Rev. William Joluison, was 
ordained April 18, 1774. He married 
Mary, daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawyer 
of the west parish. He was appointed 
professor at Harvard University in 
1792, and died August 27, I8O0, aged 
51 years. 

Leonard Woods, D. D., was settled 
December 5, 1798, and installed at 
Andover Theological Seminar}' in 1808. 

In 1789, intelligence of the success 
that had attended the labors of a 3'oung 
English missionary in New Brunswick, 
having been brought to the Rev. Mr. 
Murra}', pastor of the Presbyterian 
church, as it was a period of much re- 
ligious interest, not only in his society 
but throughout the town, the clergy- 
man forwarded a most pressing invita- 
tion to the young divine to come hith- 
er. The invitation was accepted, and 
the summer of that year the stranger 
commenced his ministration in New- 
buryport. 



Charles William Milton was born in 
London the 29 th of Nov., 1767. A pro- 
tege of Lady Huntingdon, he graduated 
at the Seminar}' established by her mu- 
nificence for the education of young 
men in the gospel ministry. 

Mr. Milton was ordained a mission- 
ary in Spa Fields Chapel, London, 
17th of Feb., 1788. and commenced the 
labor of his ^'ocation in the British Prov- 
inces . From his first advent, the young- 
preacher created a great sensation in 
Newburyport and vicinity. He was in- 
vited to settle in Amesbury, but his ad- 
mirers in Newburyport could not per- 
mit him to go, but formed a new society, 
the fourth, and settled him as their pas- 
tor. This measure, so little anticipated 
bv Mr. Murray when he solicited Mr. 
Milton's presence, must have l)een gall- 
ing to the pastor of the Presbyterian 
church, as the larger part of those 
forming the new' Independent society 
were seceders from his flock. 

As the town refused the society 
the use of the town house, the members 
for a while met for worship at the resi- 
dence of Mr. Anthony Morse in Milk 
street. In 1793, the present Prospect 
street church was erected, and Mr. Mil- 
ton was installed March 20, 1791 . His 
popularity continued for years, the large 
church being filled, often crowded. 

This building was at first built with 
two tov/ers and belfrys, as now, but 
the interior was much more massive. 
There were galleries on three sides, the 
pews were square, the pulpit like all 
pulpits in those days, there was a sound- 
ing board and deacons' seat. Two 
beautiful glass chandeliers lighted the 
house ; these, though the church has 
been modernized, the society has had 
the good taste to preserve. 

I was about fourteen years of agp 



216 



REMEN-ISCEiq-CES 



the first time I heard Parson Milton 
preach ; he was in the pulpit when T 
eute]-etl the meeting-house. In tliose 
days the seats, which were on hinges, 
were raised during pra^'er, in order that 
the worshippers might stand more con- 
veniently. As the congregation rose, 
up went the seats with a clap, and tlie 
'' amen " was followed by a slam, bang, 
which rattled the windows and rever- 
berated through the building in a most 
anti-reverential intinuer. Here and 
there a seat was cushioned for an inva- 
lid or elderly woman, but it was a rare 
thing for a pew to be thus furnislied 
throughout, and a carpeted floor had 
never been thought of. Col. Green- 
leaf caused a deal of talk by cushioning 
his pew in the new Pleasant street 
meeting-house with cushions covered 
with rod velvet edged by fringe. 

I had scarcely become seated when up 
jumped Parson Milton from the pulpit, 
in his gown and bands, like a jumping 
jack out of a box, and, with up-raised 
hands, gleaming eyes, the thick curls 
falling to his shoulders, in quick, curt 
tones, he shouted, "Let's pray." Up 
jumped the congregation ; slap ! went 
up the seats. I was scarcely on my 
feet, or had regained the breath which 
had been fairly taken from me, when 
"amen" was pronounced ; down, bang ! 
went the seats, and a hymn was given 
out. T doubt not that the serngon was 
sound and pithy, Init the preacher's 
manner so wrought upon my nerves 
that I could scarcely listen, and the 
final amen was hailed with great satis- 
faction. I was onl}' too glad, as the 
pew doors were flung wide and the men 
and boys clattered down the aisle, to 
follow them into the winter sunshine of 
the quiet street. 

B}' his good sense, urbanity, and 



originality, Parson Milton obtained a 
strong hold upon the attection of his 
people. His preaching was bold and 
energetic, often interluded by the most 
odd and startling illustrations ; at times 
he soared into a perfect rhai)sody of 
impassioned eloquence. The manner 
of the man pointed every word, a man- 
ner peculiarly his own ; his tones and 
gestures must be heard and seen to be 
appreciated : they were the power by 
which he swayed the multitude. Whol- 
ly absorbed in his subject, he often cast 
aside rules and regulations, making a 
law unto himself. 

The sexton of his society was a Mr. 
Currier. This name, in the then com- 
mon parlance, was called Kiah. On 
one occasion, at an evening lecture, 
Parson Milton nearl}" upset the equa- 
nimity' of his hearers, by shouting, in 
the midst of his sermon, without the 
slightest pause between the sentences, 
"The Lord said unto Moses, Kiah snuff 
the candles ! " Describing one of his 
church members, who was a dealer in 

lumber, he said : " Brother is the 

crookedest stick that ever grew on 
Ziou's hill." One Sunday, in his ve- 
hemence, he pushed the Bible from the 
the desk, and the sacred volume, 
much to the consternation of the 
congregation, went, slap ! upon the 
floor in front of the pulpit. 

On a warm Sunday afternoon, the 
Parson espied one of his parishioners 
asleep in his pew, near the pulpit. 
This man's christian name was Mark, 
Leaning forward, in a quick, loud tone 
he exclaimed, "Mark!" The sleeper 
started and opened his ej'es, when in a 
lower tone was added, "the perfect 
man, and behold the upright. " He 
was a true friend of sailors ; ever}' 
Sunday his invariable petition arose 



OF A xoirAGE:N^AiiiA:^r. 



217 



"that God would bless onr seafaring 
brethren. " Parson Milton died Ma}' 
1, 1837, aged sevent}' years. 

Several members of the Presbyterian 
church, being dissatisfied with the set- 
tlement of the Rev. Daniel Dana as 
their pastor, withdrew from the society 
and formed the second Presbyterian 
church. The society was incorporated 
November 24th, 1796. That year 
Harris, Pleasant, Broad and Essex 
streets were accepted l)y the town, and 
the meeting-house erected on Har- 
ris street by the new Presbyterian 
society was dedicated in December. 
The first pastor of this society was the 
Kev. John Boddily, who was born in 
Bristol, England, and educated at Lady 
Huntingdon's college. He was or- 
dained at Westbury, England, in 1780, 
and installed in Newbury port, June 2f<, 
1797. Mr. Boddily died in 1802, and 
was succeeded by the Rev. John Giles. 
This gentleman, also an Englishman, 
was born in Caerlon, INIonmouthshire, 
in 1758 ; he was settled over the socie- 
ty in Harris street, July 20, 1803. 
Parson Giles was the great Democrat- 
ic, or, as he was commonl}- styled. Ja- 
cobin preacher, rivalling Dr. Parish, of 
Byfield, his Federalist opponent. Peo- 
ple would rush to town from all quar- 
ters to listen to the Democratic dis- 
courses of Parson Giles, and the meet- 
ing-house would be thronged, while 
vice versa, the town folk would go 
out to Byfield to enjoy the eloquence of 
the pelebrated Dr. Parish's fiery Feder- 
alist harangues. The church in Harris 
street was the nucleus of the Demo- 
cratic society of the place — Dr. Smitli 
of Mount Rural, Capt. Benjamin Pierce, 
the Williams' family, the Hortons, Capt. 
Richards, Mr. Samuel Noyes of the 
"Farms," and other leading families, — 
28 



for though Newbur^qiort was emphati- 
cally a Federalist town, there was still 
a most respectable minority of Demo- 
crats. 

From my earliest recollection, there 
were Baptist churches in Haverhill and 
New Rowley, but the society in New- 
buryport was not formed until 1804. 
This sect had obtained a few converts 
through several previous j'ears. I 
have elsewhere mentioned an unsuc- 
cessful attempt to form a church. The 
first regular service was held in a 
school-house on Marlborough street, 
July 22, 1804 ; a young licentiate 
preacher, Joshua Chase, conducted the 
service. On Sunday, the 14th of the 
October following, Stephen Goodwin, 
David Burlnink, Benjamin Goodwin, 
Bart Hurd, John Flood, Nathaniel Pet- 
tingell, and Mrs. Rebecca Dorman, 
were baptized. These were the first 
ever immersed in the town. The 2d of 
May, 1805, a church was regularly or- 
ganized. Soon after, the young licen- 
tiate was ordained as an evangelist and 
went to another field of labor. In the 
autumn, an engagement was made with 
the Rev. John Peak, who preached 
alternately in the Marlborough street 
school-house and in a small building at 
the "Plains." This continued until 
Mr. Peak luade it a condition of his 
permanent settlement that the society 
should, worship in some central location 
in Newbury port. For a time they 
met in a building called the ' ' Taber- 
nacle," on Temple street. In 1807 
the society began to build a brick 
meeting-house on Liberty street, which 
was completed the next year, and the 
next, 1809, the Rev. Mr. Peak was or- 
dained pastor. 

Capt. WiUiam Cutler, of Newbury- 
port, married a French lady, a member 



218 



REMTtiTTSCEXCES 



of the Komnn Catholic church. To 
baptize her infant, and perform other 
sacraments, IMshop Chcvereaux, of 
Boston, occasional!}' visited Mrs. Cut- 
ler at her residence. There were some 
half dozen French exiles and other 
foreigners in the place, also Catholics, 
who would assemble on these visits, 
in a chaml)er which iNFrs. Cutler had 
fitted up for an orator >•. These were 
the first Catholic services ever held in 
Newburyport. 

Soi)hronia Peal)ody when a child was 
intimate with Mrs. Cutler's little girl. 
One Saturday- as the two were return- 
ing home from school, Frasiette said to 
Sophronia : " The bishop is coming to 
say mass to-morrow. Mamma expects 
him this afternoon in the four o'clock 
stage. We have fitted up the oratorj* 
real pretty, and if you will never, never 
tell, I will show it to you." Mrs. Cut- 
ler, a very quiet and discreet person, 
avoided all publicity that might cause 
remark or animadversion, consequent- 
I3' this caution in Frasiette. Fronie 
having given the required promise of 
secrecy, the two mounted to the second 
story of Mr. Cutler's house. vSlowly 
opening a door, Frasiette, reverently 
crossing herself, admitted her visitor 
into a dimly lighted apartment, richly 
furnished, and hung with several pic- 
tures from scripture subjects ; at the 
upper end was an altar covered with a 
handsome cloth, upon which was a cru- 
cifix, wax tapers, and other appurte- 
nances for worship. Gliding across 
the room, the little Frasiette devoutlj- 
knelt and whispered an ave. The dim, 
religious air of the room, and the so- 
lemnity' of her companion, made a viv- 
id impression on my young cousin. 
Scarcely would she then have believed 
that her baby brother, Joseph Little, 



in after years would graduate at a 
Catholic college, many a catholic lady, 
and live and die in the bosom of that 
church, which, as a New England boy, 
he was taught to shun and abhor. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

Fi-om its settlement, Newlnny, for a 
new place, was remarkably well sup- 
plied with the means of education. 
For the first few years, j\Ir. Parker and 
Mr. Noyes taught the boys of their 
charge, but in a short time a regular 
schoolmaster was maintained. His 
election and the appropriation for his 
salary being one of the items in the 
warning for the annual town meeting. 
Provision was also made for the study 
of Latin. 

The first schoolmaster of Newbur}' 
was Antliony Somerby. In the 3-ear 
1639, "for his encouragement to keep 
schoole for one year, he was granted 
foure akers of upland, over the great 
river, on the neck ; also sixe akers of 
salt marsh, next to Abraham Toppan's 
twenty akers." In 1675, Mr. Henry 
Short was hired at a salary of £5 for 
the first six months, and sixpence a 
week from each scholar. 

As the population increased and ex- 
tended, difliculties arose respecting the 
location and support of the school. 
There was the first settlement on the 
river Parker, the Riverside village on 
the Merrimac, and the West village 
near the Artichoke river. As these 
settlements were at a considerable dis- 
tance from each other, each holding- 
distinct interests, it was but natural 
that the town meetings became the 



OF A NOlSTAGEISrAIlIAI^. 



219 



arena of much zealous contention upon 
tlie school question. The Parker river 
settlement usually contrived to se- 
cure the largest appropriation, while 
the remote village at the -'Plains" 
with difficulty secured a mere moiety. 
In 1680 the town voted to pay a 
salary of £60 a year, and hired Mr. 
Emerson as teacher. The minority 
rebelled, refused to employ Mr, Em- 
erson, and hired a Mr. Burle}^ for £20. 
The " Generall Courte " was called 
upon to settle the matter. It de- 
cided in favor of Mr. Emerson, 
but as the town was unwilling to pay 
the high salary of £60, Mr. Emerson 
was requested to teach at the old salary 
of £20 ; at his refusal he was dismissed 
with only one dissentient vote. The 
next year Mr. Burley was secured as 
master at the usual salary of £20. He 
taught nearly two years, and was suc- 
ceeded by Mr. Edward Tomson who 
resided at the •' Plains." Up to 1601, 
the school was located at Oldtown ; that 
year it was voted that it should V)e kept 
a. third of the year at each of the A-il- 
lages. Mr. Seth Shone was hired as 
master : he was to teach readers free, 
Latin scholars were to pay 6d, and ci- 
pherers 4d a week. 

In 1603, Mr. John Clark was called 
to preach and keep a grammar school 
at the west village for one year. In 
169 i Mr. Christopher Toppan was em- 
ployed ; he was to receive "£20 in 
mone}', and 30s in good country pay, 
so long as he shall carr}" on one-half 
of the ministry, and £30 in good couu- 
tr}' pay, so long as he shall keep the 
writing and grammar school." Nicho- 
las Webster succeeded Mr. Toppan ; 
he was to have £30 in country pay, 4d 
a week from "lattin" scholars, and 
"nothing a week" for readers, writers. 



and cipherers. From 1700 to 1711, 
Mr. Richard Brown, afterwards minis- 
ter at Reading, was the teacher. In 
1713, Mr. John Woodbridge was hired 
at a salary of £25 ; he taught the school 
for eighteen years, his salary being 
gradually raised to £40 per annum. 

In 1725 the Third parish was formed. 
This parish, as I have previously 
stated , had the care of the educational 
interests of its children, obtaining what 
monev was possible from the town and 
making up the remainder by a tax upon 
the parish. In 1728 the town voted 
£30 for each of the three parishes ; the 
Third parish added £30 to its share. 
The Third parish school was then kept 
in the house of John Ordway, near the 
head of Queen, now Market street. In 
1732 Master Woodbridge was succeed- 
ed by Master vStephen Sewell, who 
taught for nearly fifty years. In 1740 
the Third parish raised £120 to have a 
grammar school, which was taught by 
Mr. Samuel IMoody, and a writing 
school, which was taught by ISIr. Leon- 
ard Cotton. At the incorporation of 
Newburyport, in 1764, a committee 
was appointed to provide, at the public 
expense, good and sufficient school- 
houses and the best masters that could 
be procured. The grammar school was 
located on Greenleaf's lane, now State 
street, in the town-house, which had 
been built by the Third parish two 
years previous. This was a two-story 
wooden building, surmounted by a bel- 
fry and spire, and stood near the upper 
corner of Essex street, on a part of 
the Clement estate. Mr. Joshua 
Moody was the first teacher. At the 
"March meeting," 1764, Mr. Moody 
resigned, and Mr. Eleazer Porter was 
hired for a time. In July the select- 
men offered the school, at £70 a year, 



220 



KEMINISCEXCES 



to Mr. James Lovell, an usher in a 
scliool in Boston. Mv. Lovell request- 
ed time to decide upon liis answer. 
After waiting several weeks, Mr. Sam- 
uel Parker was placed over the school. 
He taught until 1767, and was suc- 
ceeded by JNIr. Moses Holt, who taught 
three years, when Mr. Jeremiah Fogg- 
took the school, at £60 a 3'ear. Mr. 
Fogg taught three years, when Mr. 
Nicholas Pike was appointed at a 
salary of £80. Master Pike was a 
renowned teacher. He was also town 
clerk, a selectman, and a representa- 
tive to the State legislature ; after the 
Province became a State he was a jus- 
tice of the peace. Mr. Pike was a 
great mathematician. His arithmetic 
was the first ever issued in this coun- 
try ; it was in imiversal use until I\Ias- 
ter Walsh's appeared. Mr. Pike 
taught the school until 1791, with the 
exception of one 3'ear, when his place 
was filled l)y Master Woodbridge. 
.Mr. Samuel IMoody succeeded Mr. 
Pike, taught two years, and was fol- 
lowed by Rev. Eliphalet Gillett, Avho, 
in 1794, gave place to another distin- 
guished teacher. Master Michael Walsh. 
In 1796 the brick school-house at the 
lower end of the Mall, near the site of 
the ancient windmill, was built. Mas- 
ter Walsh taught until 1S03, when he 
was succeeded by, Joshua Lane. He was 
followed by Mood^'Noyes, and by John 
Loud, who kept until LS06. The 
school having greatlj- declined, the 
salary was raised from $420 to .$(500, 
and Mr. Eben Coffin hired to teach. 
He was a superior teacher, and taught 
until 1810, when Joseph Dana suc- 
ceeded him. Li a few months Mr. 
Dana became preceptor of the New- 
buryport Academy, and Mr. B. 1). 
Emerson took the school. In 1811 he 



was succeeded by Asa W. Wildes. In 
1816 Mr. Wildes resigned, and Mr. B. 
D. Emerson again took ihe school. In 
1818 Mr. Frazier was teacher, but not 
giving satisfaction, Mr. Wildes was 
persuaded to again take the school, 
which he taught until 1823. 

The two writing schools established b}^ 
the town in 1764 were located : one on 
Bartlets lane, now^ Winter street, and 
the other on a lane which is now 
School street. The school in the 
North school-house wasformalh' opened 
by Parson Lowell, with a praj^er and 
an exhortation, in which the pupils 
were told ''to obey and reverence the 
master in school, and at all times to 
conduct themselves in a proper and 
orderly manner." 

The Rev. Mr. Parsons opened the 
South school with prayer and good 
advice to the boys. The master of the 
North school was John ^'inal from 
Boston ; he was succeeded by John 
Mycall, I. Hills, R. Long, T. Thomp- 
son. Enoch Titcomb, Henry Titcomb, 
Wm. Sawyer, Wm. Farnham, Archi- 
bald McPhail, Henry Titcomb and 
Jonathan Coolidge. 

Master Stephen Sewell was the first 
teacher at the South school ; he contin- 
ued to teach until, his powers having 
become impaired by age, Bishop Nor- 
ton was appointed usher ; he succeeded 
^Master Sewell, retaining the school 
until 1790. He was followed by Joseph 
Moody, Joseph Newman, Robert 
Long, Samuel Goodhue, I>en. Cheever, 
Ben. Whitmore, Geoi-ge Titcomb and 
Newman Brown. This school in 1822 
was in the new school-house standing 
on the site of the old one. In 1796 
the writing schools were so full, a 
centre school was formed in the room 
vacated by the grammar school, in the 



OP A NOlSTAGEISrAllIAISr. 



221 



old town house, where it remained until 
1609, when the second story was add- 
ed to the school-house at the lower 
end of the mall, and the school re- 
moved to it. The masters in the cen- 
tre school vcere Samuel Toppan. Paul 
No3'es, Benjamin Clanin, James Burn- 
ham, Samuel Colman, Benjamin Gould, 
Asa W. Wildes, George Titcomb, 
Benjamin Whitmore and S. Goodhue. 

In 1805 the " north end" petitioned 
for a school-house. A school had been 
organized, which was for a while 
taught in the upper loft of a barn be- 
longing to Capt. Morrison on Kent 
street. The brick school-house was 
built, which stood upon Kent, corner 
of Russia street. The masters of 
this school were William Pipkin, 
Robert Harvey. Daniel Haskell, 
George Rogers. Rev. H. Wheeler, 
Nathan Brown, Josiah Bartlett and 
George Titcomb. 

Master Robert Harvey was also clerk 
at St. Paul's Episcopal church. He 
was an excellent teacher, and a most 
efficient church officer, much beloved 
and respected by the rector and the so- 
ciety. Previous to this date, tin foot- 
stoves, holding within an iron pan 
filled with hard wood coals, had been 
the only protection from cold in any 
house of worship, but al>out the time 
of Master Harvey's appointment to the 
office of clerk, a large, cast iron stove 
had been placed in the broad aisle of 
St. Paul's church. One cold morning, 
finding that the wood fire did not give 
the requisite heat, as uncle Nat Bailey, 
the sexton, was ringing the bell. Clerk 
Harve}' proceeded to fix it. In so do- 
ing he smutted his hand, which inad- 
vertently was passed over his face, 
smearing it most ludicrously. As was 
then the custom, at the appointed time 



the clerk rose in his desk, and with his 
usual grave dignit}' gave out the hymn, 
the first line of which most singularly 
read, — 

"Behold the beauties of my face." 

The efl:ect was irresistible, and a sup- 
pressed smile spread over the congre- 
gation, while the unconscious clerk 
calmly finished the A'erse. 

Master George Titcomb was an ex- 
cellent penman. During the winter he 
usually taught a private evening writ- 
ing school. He was also noted for 
making the quill pens then Avholly used. 

There was no public school for fe- 
males until 1790 ; then four " dames' " 
schools were gathered for girls between 
five and nine years, in which were 
taught readhig, spelling the catechism, 
sewing, knitting, ''good manners and 
proper decenc}' of behavior." These 
" dames" were Ann Bradish, Elisabeth 
Chandler, Anne Obin and Margery Ros- 
seau. In 1792 the daughters of those 
paA'ing a tax of over three hundred 
pounds, were permitted to attend the 
grammar school, an hour and a half 
after the usual session during the sum- 
mer, when the number of male pupils 
was duninished, to receive instruction 
in reading and grammar from the mas- 
ters. This arrangement not proving 
satisfactory, was discontinued at the 
end of the season. 

In 1791 two schools for the instruc- 
tion of small boys were organized. In 
1804 four morning schools were estab- 
lished for girls, which were kept from 
six to eight o'clock, and Thursday after- 
noons, for six months in the year. Not- 
withstanding the early hour these 
schools were well attended. The}- were 
taught b}' the masters of the boys' 
schools in the four school-houses of the 
town. 



222 



REMINISCENCES 



In 1812 these morning schools were 
discontinued, and three grammar 
schools for girls were established. 
One was located in the Court House. 
the ' ' north end " school was taught in 
the second story of the school-house 
on Kent street, and the third was on 
Beck street. The teachers were Miss 
Chadbourne, Miss S. I. Moulton and 
Miss Clarissa Call. Private schools 
were extensively patronized. Those 
for .voung children were usually taught 
by middle aged or elderly women, in 
cap and spectacles. There were Dame 
Moody, Marm Emerson. Marm Fowler 
at Belleville, and others. Distinguished 
private schools for both sexes were 
taught by gentlemen. Several of the 
teachers of the public schools, at 
times taught private s(;hoois. Master 
Long kept in a low, ropewalk-like 
building, a rude structure, with an im- 
mense fire place, and a wall from which 
large patches of plastering had been 
detached, while the remainder was in a 
cracked and shak}^ condition. Though 
at that time a teacher considered it 
necessary never to neglect the axiom 
"spare the rod and spoil the child, " 
even then Master Long was noted for 
severity. " Oh m}' I how he did lick 
the bo3's ! " was the exclamation of a 
former pupil, as she recalled her school 
days. Master AValsh had a flourishing 
private school, in a school-house back 
of the church on Harris street. ]\fas- 
ter Archibald McPhail, for a time, 
taught a very select and genteel school. 
in a long, low, wooden building on 
Green street, on the lot where the 
Catholic church now stands. Later 
Master Titcomb taught in this Iniilding 
a private school for bo^'s. There was 
also a number of select schools for 
young ladies in the town. In my 



childhood Marm Dod and Miss Phillipa 
Call were famed instructresses. Mrs. 
Catharine Wigglesworth Brown, the 
widowed daughter of Col. Wiggles- 
worth, had a large and genteel school 
for several ^xars in Newburyport ; 
afterwards she was the I'rincipal of a 
flourishing seminary in Georgetown, 
D. C. Miss Akerman, Mrs. McCul- 
loch. Miss Susan Tenney, Miss Elisa- 
beth White and Miss Stan wood, had 
private schools for Misses. Dr. Sam- 
uel Colman, for a time, taught a private 
school for young ladieis, in a room 
over the ''Herald" oflice. After his 
decease this school was continued by 
his daughter Mar^- Ann, at her 
mother's residence on Water street. 
Miss Brice, an English woman, taught 
in the old "Tabernacle," Temple 
street. This lady and her negro maid 
servant were conspicuous characters 
at that period. 

At each of the female schools, in ad- 
dition to knitting and plain sewing, or- 
namental needlework was taught, and 
in some, instruction was given in 
drawing in India ink and painting in 
water colors ; also, ever}- girl was 
taught to embroider letters in mark- 
ing stitch. One was considered very 
poorly educated who could not ex- 
hibit a sampler ; some of these were 
large and elaborate specimens of 
handiwork ; framed and glazed, they 
often formed the chief ornament of the 
sitting room or the l)est chamber. 
When they mereh' comprised the al- 
phal)et, in the variously designed let- 
ters of printing and writing, finished 
by a verse of poetry, or a text from 
Scripture, the whole enclosed by an or- 
namental border, they were quite pret- 
t}- specimens of needle work ; but some- 
times, when more ambitious attempts 



OF A NO:firAGENAIlIA:N^. 



223 



were exhibited, tliey were sufficiently 
grotesque. I have seen wrought under 
the letters, a square, three-storied house 
flanked b}' a pot of flowers, the pot, 
and what was intended for a rose bush, 
as tall as the house, with a horse on 
the other side twice as large as cither. 
Pocket-books and cushions worked in 
crewel, had given place to wrought 
muslin, and pictures worked on satin. 
Mourning pieces were in vogue, though 
some preferred scriptural or classical 
sulijects. One could conscientiously' 
pronounce these productions remarka- 
ble specimens of ai't. The needlework 
was usuall}- verv neatl}' executed, but 
the false perspective and queerly drawn 
figures, rendered most of them "simply 
ridiculous." Miss Dod had some hand- 
some copies of the pictures of the 
Washington family executed in her 
school, and Mrs. Katy Brown's school 
was distinguished for the pictures exe- 
cuted by its pupils. Sophronia Pea- 
body, of this school, embroidered a 
mourning piece, a memorial to her sis- 
ter Fila, v.'ho died in her fifth year. 
In the foreground, on a green mound 
stood a white monument surmounted 
by an urn ; the front of the pillar bore 
the name and age of the deceased ; 
above drooped a luxuriant weeping wil- 
low ; beside the tomb knelt a lad}-, clad 
in the height of French fashion, ver}- 
properl}- drying her tears on a large 
handkerchief in the right hand ; beyond 
stretched a bit of landscape, put in by 
Mrs Brown in colored chalks, which 
showed that the lad}' had a fine talent 
for landscape painting. The parting of 
Hector and Andromache was a favorite 
picture amongst the girls of Mrs. 
Brown's school. The couple were rep- 
resented in a final embrace on the por- 
tico of a palace. Massive pillars sup- 



ported the roof; the floor Avas of alter- 
nate squares of black and white, repre- 
senting marble. A little apart stood 
the nurse bearing the infant heir in her 
arms, while the back ground showed a 
a plain dotted b}' tents. Coats of 
arms were also embroidered on white 
satin with colored silk. These pictures 
were tastefully framed by Mrs. Moses 
Cole. Miss Peabody's was framed in 
gilt, in an oval of enamel, with gold 
stars in the corner. 

Miss Mary Ann Colman was a good 
teacher of water color painting ; the 
fruit and flower pieces executed at 
her school were natural and well done. 
She also taught painting on wood ; 
several work-boxes and work-stands, 
painted under her instruction, are still 
to be seen in the residences of some of 
our older citizens. 

Besides these schools there were sev- 
eral noted academies in the vicinity. 
As a boarding-school "finish" was 
considered requisite to complete a gen- 
teel education, these liecame flourishing 
institutions. The academy at Atkin- 
son, N. H., was one of the first estab- 
lished in New England ; that at Brad- 
ford had been founded several years. 
The Lynn academy was at that time a 
noted school. When Miss Peabody 
was fifteen, it was decided that she 
should receive the benefit of an acade- 
mic course. My aunt, who was piously 
incHned, would have preferred Brad- 
ford, but as Mr. Leonard Smith's 
youngest daughter, Sophia, and the 
daughters of several of Gen. Peabody's 
Boston friends were at Lynn academy, 
the general and his daughter inclined 
to that seminary ; as the gentleman that 
year represented the town in the State 
legislature, and it was convenient for 
Fronie to accompany her father on his 



224 



REMrt^rSCEK'CES 



way to and from Boston. IMondays and 
Saturda3-s, Lynn received the prefer- 
ence. 

In 1807 the Newburyport academy 
was incorporated. Gen. Peal)ody was 
active in this measure, and he was so 
much pleased v>'ith INIrs. Boardman, the 
preceptress of the Lynn academy', that 
through his endeavors she was secured 
for the new academ}- at Newlniryport. 
Mr. Amos Claris: was the first precep- 
tor, assisted by Mr. Archibald MePhail. 
Mr. Chandler succeeded Mr. Clark, as- 
sisted by Mr. Adams. Mr. and jNIrs. 
Alfred Pike were preceptor and pre- 
ceptress of this institution for several 
years. Later, INIr. Eben Bailej', son of 
Mr. Paul Bailey of West Newbury, 
taught a large private school in New- 
buryport. Mrs. Lord was the principal 
of an excellent school at the academy. 
Her pupils executed man^^ fine paintings 
in water colors ; some of their paintings 
of fruit and flowers on white velvet 
were very beautiful. This lady's mar- 
riage with Dr. Richard S. Spofford. 
was regarded by her pupils and the 
public as a loss to which they could 
scarcel_y have been reconciled, had they 
not rejoiced in the prospect of her hap- 
piness and usefulness amongst them in 
a different sphere. 

]M aster Cheever and Master Whit- 
more for many j-ears were noted teach- 
ers in Newbury. 

The first Sabbath school in Massa- 
chusetts was organized in Newbnr3-port 
in 1814. These schools were held in 
the chapel of the North church, a small 
wooden building on Titcomb street, and 
that of the Old South church, a dingy 
brick edifice on the upper side of Beck 
street. The school at the North was 
formed by Miss Phebe Harrod, Miss 
Louiza Farnham, who married the Rev. 



Dr. Orville Dewey, and Bliss Eliza Epps 
Carter, who became the wife of the Rev. 
David Kimball, of Rockford, 111. That 
at the Old South, was under the direc- 
tion of ]\Iiss Ann AYheelwright, who 
(irst married Mr. Samuel Adams of the 
Newburyport Academy, second her 
cousin John Wheelwright, Miss Dolly 
Greenleaf, afterward Mrs. Pearson of 
Portland, Maine, and Miss Eliza Gould, 
who became Mrs. Rappello of New 
York city. Four of these ladies. Miss 
Ilarrod, Mrs. Dewe}', Mrs. Kimball 
and Mrs. Rapello, are still living in the 
enjoyment of a hale old age. 

In 1817 a union school from each of 
the societies in the town was organized 
at the Court House. 

Mr. John Pearson was the first sup- 
erintendent, he was- succeeded by Mr. 
Samuel Tennej' and William B. Bannis- 
ter, esq. This continued a year or two. 
then the different societies formed a 
school for themselves as at present, but 
for a time an annual union service was 
held in Parson Milton's meeting-house, 
the children with their teachers occupy- 
ing the wide galleri(!S of the spacious 
building. A union teachers' meeting 
was also continued for some time. 

Miss Mary Hodge was one of the 
most active and efficient amongst the 
first Sabbath school teachers. 



CHAPTER XLIIL 

At an earh' date, the colonists of 
Newbur}' commenced the construction 
of water craft. The first vessels de- 
signed for fishing and the coasting- 
trade were built on the river Parker. 
As the settlement increased, the water- 



OF A NON^AGEJ^TAHIAIT. 



225 



side people became largely engaged in 
shipbuilding ; many vessels, as I have 
previously stated, being built for Eng- 
lish owners. The first ferry across the 
Merrimac was at Carr's Island, and one 
of the first building yards was estab- 
lished there by Mr. George Carr. I 
have stated that my great-grandfather 
Johnson's father had a ship^'ard as early 
as 1695, near the bottom of Chandler's 
lane, now Federal street, and the busi- 
ness was continued in the Johnson 
family for two or three generations. 
In 1759 Mr. Gideon Wood well owned 
a yard near the foot of Muzzey's lane, 
now Marlborough street, and as early 
as 1730, Mr. Samuel Moggaridge had 
a dwelling house and building yard at 
the rocky point farther up the river, 
afterwards known as Moggaridge's 
point. At that time Mr. Ralph Cross 
was a prominent builder, and Mr. Wil- 
liam Gerrish had an extensive 3'ard 
reaching from South, now Bromfield 
street, to Somerby's court, and from the 
river back to Hancock street. Ship 
3'ards were scattered along the river 
bank from Pierce's farm to Mogga- 
ridge's point. In the summer of 1766 
seventy-two vessels were upon the 
stocks, all in process of construction. 
During the Revolution many privateers 
were built in Newbury and Newbury- 
port. At the close of the war, ship 
building again became active, but the 
ships of those da^'s were small, none 
exceeding two to three hundred tons bur- 
then. About 1790 Mr. Elias Jackman 
established a shipyard near the Chain 
bridge. This bridge, built under the 
supervision of Mr. Timoth}- Palmer, 
was opened to the public November 
26, 1792. About this time Mr. Orlando 
B. Merrill established himself in ship 
building at Bellevilleport. Mr. Mer- 



rill was the inventor of the water-line 
model. Previous, onl}' skeleton models 
had been used. There were several 
other prominent ship builders at the 
" Ship3'ards ; " Mr. Elias Briggs sent 
forth a large number of vessels, and 
the yards of Messrs. Stephen and Ben- 
jamin Ualton, Joseph Coffin, and Messrs. 
Jonathan and Thomas Merrill, from 
3'ear to year resounded with the cheery 
sounds of industry. 

I have stated that Major Ephraim 
Emer}' married Miss Mar}', daughter 
of Mr. Peter Russell of Bradford, who 
was a distinguished shipbuilder. Their 
oldest daughter, Mary Emery, married 
Capt. John Remick. This gentleman 
was engaged in ship building as a mas- 
ter caipenter during his life. In his lat- 
ter years Maj. Emery resided with his 
daughter and son-in-law at their resi- 
dence in Bellevilleport, and there the 
old revolutionary hero, who for several 
3'ears had patiently borne the affliction 
of blindness, breathed his last in 1825, 
aged 67. 

At the south end, Mr. Gideon Wood- 
well had been succeeded by his son, 
Capt. John Woodwell, who carried on 
an extensive business at this period. 
Immediately' preceding the great fire 
of 1811, many small craft and boats 
were built at the south end. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

Though the European troubles had 
impeded commerce, Newburyport was 
as prosperous as her sister seaports. 
Her foreign. West India and coasting 
trade, combined with the countr^^ traf- 
fic, caused the wharves and business 
29 



226 



REMINISCENCES 



streets to wear the aspect of a thriving 
mart. 

The first wharf at the " water side" 
was built in 1G5G, near the site of tlie 
present Market house, by Mr. Paul 
White, along with a dock, warehouse 
and stillhouse. In 1678, Marchant 
(Richard) Dole procured the grant of 
land lying near "Watts his cellar," 
where he built a wharf and dock. 
" Watts his cellar" was also in what is 
now Market square. In 1680 the town 
granted liberty to Ensign Stephen 
Greenleaf and Mr. Daniel Davidson to 
build a wharf at the point of rocks 
above " Watts his cellar." The same 
year Nathaniel Clark obtained a por- 
tion of the flats, upon which to build a 
wharf. The town also voted to grant 
the petition of Benjamin Rolfe, Doctor 
John Dole, and Richard Dole, for four 
or five rods on the flats, from Watt's 
cellar spring to Ensign Greenleaf 's, for 
a place to build a wharf. Robert C'o- 
ker, in the behalf of his son, Benjamin 
Coker, proposed for a place to make a 
wharf. Year after 3'ear other wharves 
were added down the river until a con- 
tinuous line stretched from the ship 
yards to Joppa. 

In the 3'ear 1811 the first was Pills- 
bury's wharf at the foot of North, now 
Oakland street. The second was Se- 
vier's, near the foot of Broad street. 
The distillery of William and Abraham 
Williams stood near the head of this 
wharf, just below the residence built by 
Capt. Sevier, afterwards purchased by 
Joseph Williams, jr., from which the 
wharf was known Ijy the name of the 
Williams wharf. Richard's and Cald- 
well's wharves came next. Below was 
that of Major Samuel Coffin. This 
wharf ran out into deep water ; upon 
it was another large distillery, and 



twent}' sail of A'cssel could be seen 
there at a time, discharging cargoes of 
molasses from the AVest Indies. Hor- 
ton's and Newman's wharves ranged 
below. Moses Brown's was at the foot 
of Green street. Here was a third 
distillery, and this was the focus of 
Mr. Brown's 'extensive business. Tit- 
comb's wharf came next ; then. Green- 
leaf's, Ferry, Boardman's, O'Brien's, 
Jackson's, Jewett's, Atwood's, Car- 
ter's, Marquand's, Hudson's, and Dav- 
enport's. Below was Lunt's mast 
yard ; then came Haskell's. Bartlet's, 
Johnson's and Coombs' wliarvcs. The 
lower wharf was owned by Maj. David 
Coffin, who was then one of the most 
thriving merchants. 

At that time every vessel placed 
upon the stocks was wholly completed 
and equipped for sea before it sailed 
over the bar. This brought a multi- 
plicity of business to the town. Along 
the wharves stretched lofty warehouses 
crowded with merchandise. Carts and 
drays rattled up and down, incoming 
and outgoing vessels came and went, 
the merry songs and "heave ho's"of 
the sailors, blended with the cheers- 
tones and hearty jests of the steve- 
dores, carts from the interior unloaded 
and loaded — at ever}' turn was I)ustle, 
industry and activity. Here were the 
spacious sail and rigging lofts, pump 
and block makers' shops, and ship 
chandlers stores, everj- thing that per- 
tained to maritime trade. Mr. Joshua 
Norton, Joseph Stanwood and the 
Messrs. Davis and Hayncs, had large 
sail lofts ; Thomas Prichard a rigging- 
loft on Ferry wliarf; iMioch Toppan 
a l)lock maker's shop on Carter's 
wharf. Maj. Joshua Greenleaf did 
most of the ship iron work at his large 
smithy on Liberty street. Mr. Gor- 



OP A XON^AGENAHIAIN^. 



227 



don had a similar establishment at 
Bellevilleport. This gentleman was 
somewhat economical in his house- 
hold. At that period cheese was a 
customary appendage of the dinner 
table, being considered an accessory to 
digestion. Mr. Gordon employed 
several workmen. One day a large 
cheese was placed on the table ; after 
the meat had been disposed of, Mr. 
Gordon took a knife to cut the cheese ; 
turning it over, he exclaimed, " this is 
a good cheese, a pretty cheese, too 
good to spoil ! " and laying down the 
knife, he rose and called his men to their 
work. That afternoon a large anchor 
was to be forged, the tire was kindled, 
the iron heated. 

"That is a good heat!" exultantly- 
exclaimed the master. 

"•A good heat," with one voice re- 
sponded the men. 

"A grand heat," reiterated the mas- 
ter. 

"A grand heat," again responded the 
men. 

"Then win' don't you strike?" im- 
patiently' demanded the master. 

"It is a good heat?" queried the 
foreman. 

, "Yes, yes, strike, strike I tell A'e," 
hurriedly ordered the master in a quick 
authoritative tone. "Strike, strike." 

' ' Don't 3'oa think it is too good a 
heat to spoil?" quietly returned the 
foreman, while not an arm was uplifted. 

The hint was taken ; the cheese 
brought with a loaf of brown bread. 
The luncheon eaten and well washed 
down with grog, the anchor was forged 
with a will. Mr. Kenniston had then 
just set up his forge at the shipyards. 
Sargent's gunsmith shop was on Water 
street, and Mr. Joseph George did an 
extensive blacksmith's business at his 



stand on Inn street. Mr. Robert* 
Dodge had a smithy on High street for 
carriage work. Carriage building, which 
for many years had been a thriving 
luisiness on the main road, had just 
been introduced at Belleville. 

In 1785, before Washington street 
was laid out, Mr. John Tracy had a 
rope-walk running from the Quaker 
burying ground to the river. A Mr. 
Crocker at an early date built a rope- 
walk on State street, running from 
where the Whitefield church now stands 
towards Fair street. He afterwards 
built another near Frog pond, which sub- 
sequently became the property of a Mr. 
Cummings. When the Newburyport 
turnpike was built it was laid out di- 
rectly through this walk, which conse- 
quently was removed. Mr. Cummings 
in company with a Mr. Akerman after- 
wards did business in a walk running 
from South, now Bromfield, to Marlbo- 
rough streets. Abel Greenleaf had 
a walk which ran from State street, 
where stands the store of Capt. John 
Buntin, to Green street. E. Swett 
Iniilt a walk which extended from Fair 
to Federal, opposite Charter street ; 
this afterwards was purchased by Na- 
thaniel Tracy ; and Mr. Swett built an- 
other running from Federal to Lime 
streets. Moses Kent built one from 
Federal to Fair street, where Orange 
street now is ; this was moved to the 
south side of Federal street, where it 
became the property of Edward Wig- 
glesworth ; afterwards it was purchased 
by Robert Gardner and moved to South 
street, where, in company with a Mr. 
Laskej', a large business was done at 
the time of the great fire. Messrs. 
Eleazer Johnson, and Young and Pet- 
tingell had walks extending from South 
to Marlborough streets. Andrew Laskey 



228 



REMIN'ISOEN'CES 



had a walk on Milk street which ran 
to Water street. Mr. Green Pearson 
one from Washington to Water street ; 
this was I think the walk built b}' Mr. 
John Tracy. Edward Wigglesworth 
built one which ran from Lime to South 
street above Newbury ; this was sold 
to Eleazer Johnson, moved south of 
South street, and afterwards owned by 
Andrew Laskey, and finally by Mr. 
George Donnell, who is still living, 
1880, the oldest man in the city. 
E. & I. Swett built a walk south of 
Marlborough street. The Gardner 
rope-walk was afterwards owned by 
David Evans, whose sons went into the 
cordage business in other towns. Near 
that Deacon Amos Pettingell built a 
walk which later was owned by Pettin- 
gell and Donnell. Eleazer Johnson 
built another near the last named which 
was afterwards owned by Mr. Worm- 
stead and son. 

Below, in Newbury, skirting the river 
and round "Flat-iron point," was an 
irregular collection of small low houses, 
forming the fishing hamlet of Joppa. 
Hei-e in the season the river bank would 
often be lined with wherries which had 
just been brought in loaded with fish, 
which the sun-burned, bare-footed wom- 
en, in brown homespun short gown and 
petticoat tucked to the knee, with the 
older children, aided the toil-worn fish- 
ermen to carry to the great fish-flakes 
on the uplands below the long rope- 
walks. Round the open doors toddled 
wee, white-haired urchins, while others 
sailed ships and mimic boats in the 
pools and eddies of the flats. 

Beside the distilleries I have men- 
tioned, Mr. Joseph AVilliams had a 
large establisliment at the foot of 
Strong street, and Caldwell's on Mer- 
rimac street was even then noted, for 



its rum, anise and other cordials, Mr. 
John Berry Titcomb had a bakery and 
flour store back of the North church, 
and Mr. Gunnison carried on an exten- 
sive business on Titcomb street. Pu- 
laski Woodman had a bake-house near 
the head of Market street, and Messrs. 
Theodore and John Pearson's bakeries 
were on Centre street. Mr. Samuel 
Wheeler had a bake-house and store on 
the same street, and Ebenezer Pearson 
one on Middle street. 

On the site of the present Market 
house was a row of low, open butcher's 
shambles, occupied by Mr. David Ten- 
ney, Jeremiah Colman and David Em- 
er}', these two doing business as the 
firm of Colman & Emery. In addition 
a number of butcher's carts came in 
two or three times a week from adja- 
cent towns. These after supplying 
their customers, occupied a stand in 
Market square. Previous to the de- 
molition of the meeting-house, it was 
their custom to range back of that 
building with other country- traders, a 
row of oat troughs having been nailed 
to the sacred edifice for the purpose of 
baiting horses. The chief of these out 
of town butchers at that time were 
Mr. John Follansbee and his son John, 
and Mr. Samuel Bailey from the upper 
parish in Newbur}', and Mr. Williams 
from the lower parish ; Mr. Clements, 
Mr. Jvendrick, and Capt. Sawyer from 
Amesbury. Mr. John Dodge had a 
large soap and candle manufactor}- near 
Market square. At the north end 
were the wool pulling and leather dress- 
ing establishment of Messrs. Butler 
Abbott and Henry Merrill. Above 
were two lai'ge tanneries owned by Mr. 
John Balch and Mr. Eben Savor}-, each 
of whom carried on an extensive bus- 
iness. 



OF A NO]N'AGE]S"AIl 



iLn. 



229 



CHAPTER XLV. 

The town had been greatly improved 
in the past ten or fifteen years ; new 
streets had been laid out and graded, 
and many fine stores and dwellings 
erected. State street as a whole pre- 
sented a view of two-storied wooden 
buildings, mostlj' painted pale 3'ellow, 
with green blinds or shutters. Inter- 
spersed were lofty brick blocks and ed- 
ifices, and on the lower side adjoining 
Water street was a row of old, un- 
painted buildings, remnants of the more 
ancient town. On the upper side of 
the street, the first house from High 
was an old fashioned one with a long, 
sloping back roof. Here lived " Scrab- 
ble "Titcomb. How he obtained this 
sobriquet I am unable to say. Next 
were the new and palatial residences 
of Mr. Joshua Carter and Gen. John 
Peabody. On the opposite corner of 
Harris street lived Master Pike, in a 
large, substantial house ; then came the 
Tracy mansion, at that time occupied 
by Jacob Coburn as a hotel. The next 
was an old wooden structure, occupied 
by the widow Wood ; the next be- 
longed to Mrs. Burt ; Mrs. Searle also 
occupied it as a dwelling, and shop for 
dry goods and millinery. Below was 
the old Wyatt house then occupied by 
Mr. Ebenezer Stedman. On the up- 
per corner of Pleasant street stood Dr. 
Micajah Saw3-er's handsome residence ; 
on the other corner the 3'ear previous a 
large three-stor}' wooden block had 
been built. Here Cornhill commenced ; 
])efore the street had been graded 
this was quite an eminence, high and 
warm laud ; for years it was planted 
with corn, and thus obtained its name. 
The corner store in the block was oc- 
cupied by Arthur Gilraan for dry 



goods ; then came those of Paul Noyes, 
John Porter, Pierce & Gordon, Moses 
Kimball, jr., Francis Somerb}', and 
William Ho^'t. Willuim Francis had a 
hair dressing shop at the lower end. 
The upper rooms were let to Joseph T. 
Pike and Paul Bishop, tailors ; James 
Hodge, shoemaker ; and the law offices 
of Edward St. Loe Livermore, Little & 
Bannister, and John Stuart. Next, on 
the lower corner of "Thread-needle 
alle}-," came the "Wolfe Tavern," a 
two-stor}', wooden building, somewhat 
dingy with age ; before the principal 
entrance, which was reached b}- a flight 
of steps from the sidewalk, from a tall 
post swung the sign, a likeness of Gen. 
Wolfe ; from this sign the house de- 
rived its name. This was also the 
"Eastern Stage Compan3-'s " house; 
to and from its doors rattled the gaud- 
ily' painted stage coaches, and in the 
rear its niunerous fine horses were sta- 
bled. This house for many 3'ears had 
been kept by Moses Davenport, but 
latterly it had passed into the hands of 
Mr. Prince Stetson. Below the "Wolfe 
Tavern" was the "Phoenix Building," 
an imposing four- storied brick struct- 
ure, a fine specimen of architecture, 
with handsome copings, and between 
the upper windows, arched niches orna- 
mented with statues. Here was the 
custom house, Ralph Cross, collector ; 
the post office, Caleb Cross, post mas- 
ter ; the office of the Phoenix Insurance 
Company ; the remainder of the lower 
floor was improved by Philip Bagley and 
son, auctioneers, and Joseph Jackman, 
dry goods. Prince Stetson had hired 
the chambers as additional sleeping 
rooms to his hotel ; the fourth story was 
"Madison hall." Below the Phcenix 
came Blunt's building, a second large 
four-storied brick block ; the stores 



230 



REMINISCENCES 



were occupied by Joseph Hooper, crock- 
ery, Joseph Coolidge and IMoses Os- 
good, dry goods ; Howard S. Robinson 
impro^•ed pai't of the chambers as a 
dwelling, the others were rented to 
Charles Norris & Co. for a printing of- 
fice, and David Fairman, an engraver. 
Next came Peabody's corner, three 
stores ; here Samuel Stevens had a 
hardware store, John Chickering one 
for dry goods, and Thomas C. Whipple 
a book store ; above, in the chambers, 
were the Newbur3port librar}', and 
Benjamin Lord, tailor. 

The first building on the lower corner 
of State street, from High street, was 
the handsome brick house built b}' John 
Berry Titcomb. Next came the ele- 
gant Dalton establishment, then owned 
and occupied b}- Moses Brown. Dr. 
Andrews, pastor of the First church, 
resided in the third house ; next came 
those of Mrs. Carr, and Jonathan 
Marsh, esq. The Balch place came to 
the corner of Temple street. Col. 
Stephen Bartlett's house was on the 
lower corner ; then came the Moulton 
house, and that of David Wood. Be- 
low was the bank building, Newbury- 
port Bank, William Bartlet, president, 
and Samuel MuUiken, cashier ; the re- 
mainder of the building being occupied 
b}' Mrs. Bodily as a boarding house. 
The next lot, extending to Essex 
street, had been occupied by the Town 
hall. In 1809. Gen. John Peabody 
offered to erect a handsome three-story 
brick block on this site, the upper 
stor}- of which he would furnish as a 
hall for the town, to be known as the 
" Town hall," with whatever rooms 
should he desired for public use in the 
other stories, if the town would convey 
to him the old town-house and the land 
upon which it stood. The town ac- 



cepted this proposal, and the present 
l)lock was erected. The " Town hall " 
was finished and furnished in the l)est 
style. The names of the States were 
painted above the windows, with other 
appropriate decorations. In the sec- 
ond story was a room for the select- 
men, and the watch-house was in the L 
on Essex street. The first three stores 
were occupied by James Caldwell, 
Prescott Spalding, and David Peabody 
& Co., for dry goods; below was the 
book and chart store of Ebenezer 
Stedman, sign of the golden ball ; the 
store on the corner of Essex street was 
rented by Solomon Davis, for dry 
goods, and the upper rooms were oceu-- 
pied by Sam'l L. Knapp and other law- 
yers and persons, as offices. On the 
lower corner of Essex street was Ste- 
phen Greeley's shoe store. Next came 
the old Clement house. Here, when I 
was a child, a man walked across State 
street on a tight rope, stretched from 
one of its chimneys to that of the 
" Wolfe Tavern," an event which made 
no little sensation in the staid town. 
Pielow Avere Osgood & Brackett, shoe 
makei-s ; John Knowlton, cabinet mak- 
er ; Jonathan Woodman, jr., silver- 
smith ; Morrill's boarding house ; Bar- 
ber Newman's shop ; Ebenezer Dole's 
variety store, and Daniel N. Dole, sil- 
versmith. In the chamber above this 
store Obadiah Pearson worked at tailor- 
ing. The two last stores were those of 
Gilman White, crockery and glass, and 
Moses Cole, painter and gilder. 

George Little, the first of that name 
in Newbmy, had two sons, who mar- 
ried two daughters of Tristram Coffin. 
Capt. Joseph married Mary, and Moses 
Lydia. Each of these had a son named 
Tristi-am. One of these Tristram Lit- 
tles owned the property from Market 



OP A NOISTAGEN^AJilAN. 



231 



square to Fair street, between Liberty 
and Water streets. On his estate he 
built a princely mansion, which at this 
time stood a little back from State 
street. Though hoary with age, it still 
retained much of its ancient elegance, 
and was the home of two bachelor 
brothers, Michael and Iluzen Little, 
descendants of Tristram Little. Tris- 
tram (son of Capt. Joseph Little) mar- 
ried Anna, daughter of Stephen Em- 
ery. Their oldest child, Mary Little, 
married Capt. Michael Dal ton, whose 
son, Tristram Dalton, was born in 
Newburyport, May 28, 1738, and 
graduated at Harvard University at the 
early age of seventeen. He studied 
law as an accomplishment, the fortune 
which he inherited from his father not 
requiring him to practice it as a pro- 
fession. His wife was Ruth, eldest 
daughter of Robert Hooper, of Mar- 
blehead. Mr. Dalton took a deep in- 
terest in agriculture and horticulture, 
which was shown in the extensive gar- 
den of his residence on State street, 
and his estate on Pipestave hill, 'West 
Newbury. His was a most hospitable 
mansion ; his town and country houses 
were honored 1>3' the presence of the 
distinguished of our own and foreign 
lands as guests. As eminent for piet^- 
as he was for mental endowments, St. 
Raul's church, of which he was a war- 
den, shared in his gerferous liberality. 
He was a representati\'e, speaker of 
I the House of Representatives, and a 
senator in the legislature of Massachu- 
setts, and a senator of the I'nited 
States in the tirst congress after the 
adoption of the federal constitution. 
AVhen Washington City was founded, 
Mr. Dalton invested his entire fortune 
in lands there, and lost it by the mis- 
management of a business agent. At 



the same time a vessel, which was 
freighted with his furniture and valua- 
ble library, was lost on the way from 
Newburyport to Washington, and he 
thus found himself, after living sixty 
years in affluence, penniless. Several 
offices of profit and honor were imme- 
diately tendered to him by the govern- 
ment, and he accepted the surve3'orship 
of Boston. He died in Boston, May 
30, 1817, and his remains were taken 
to Newburyport, where they were in- 
terred in the burial ground of St. 
Raul's church. 

Round the corner of Middle street 
was James Kimljall's grocerj' store, 
Whittingham and John Gilman's book 
store, and Nathan Ames, shoemaker. 
Above was the Herald office. Ephraim 
Allen, editor and printer ; beyond was 
the dwelling and- milliner's shop of 
Mrs. Jones. Thomas Dodge's house 
and joiner shop, Hannah Bradbury's 
house and milliner shop, and the dwell- 
ing house of Nanc}- and Eliza Batchel- 
der, milliners. On this street were the 
cabinet and chair maldng shops of 
C!lark Morss, Elijah Bliss, Southy Par- 
ker, Daniel Abbott, E. Dole, G. Parker, 
and S. Dole ; and the groceries of 
E. Dole, P. Tenney and P. Thurlo. 
On Market square were Samuel Thomp- 
son, tobacconist, Joseph Lesley's coop- 
er shop, Edward Rand's dwelling house 
and hardware store, Daniel Smith and 
Aaron Davis, apothecaries, Enoch 
Plummer, Ephraim Titcorab and Moses 
Moody, groceries ; Anthony Smith kept 
liardvvare and groceries, and Perkins 
& Dean kept two stores for hardware. 
Here were John M. O'Brien's attorney's 
office, and Daniel Balch's shop for 
watch making ; James Locker's, Ed- 
ward Toppan, jr's., James Kimball's, 
Francis Todd's, and Samuel Foster's 



232 



REMENISCENCES 



diy goods stores ; Edward Little & Go's 
book store ; over this store was Enoch 
Pike's tailoring establishment. The 
office of the Union Insurance CompanA', 
Stephen Holland, president, and the 
residence of Dr. Bradstreet, were on 
the square, witli Thomas Hale's hatter's 
shop and two ship chandlery stores be- 
longing to Abner "Wood and Major 
Joshua Greenleaf. On Liberty street 
were the residences of Major Joshua 
Greenleaf, Ephraim Allen, and the old 
Emerson house. Below the market, on 
Water street, were John Wood's ware- 
house at the head of Ferry wharf, and 
the groceries of Daniel Burnham, Wil- 
liam Bayley, Joseph Edwards, Benja- 
min G. Sweetser, Moses Sweet, Moses 
Clark, and Widow Greenleaf; Wilham 
Boardman kept hardware, groceries, 
paints, etc. Next to Mr. Bayley's 
grocer}' was Billy Watkins' property : 
two houses and stores, with two l)ack 
stores. This Billy Watkins, an ec- 
centric old bachelor, was one of the 
notorieties of the town. Below was 
Humphrey Cook's hatter's shop, and 
that of Thomas Lord ; David Moody 
and Thomas Moody had malt houses, 
Mrs. Kichardson a milliner's shop, 
Joseph O'Brien's house and store, 
the Harrod house, and Joseph Brown, 
auctioneer. John Hart's tavern, 

Benjamin Appleton's hatter's shop, 
Marm Seward's boarding house, a 
Ijoarding house kept by Hannah Prime, 
Joseph Toppan's house and dry goods 
store, Stephen Gerrish & Son's house 
and dry goods store, John Greenough, 
hatter, Clement Star, house and shop, 
T. & A. Wheeler, grocery and board- 
ing house, Benjamin H. Toppan, cop- 
persmith, Timoth}' T. Ford's house and 
dry goods store, and Capt. Dunlap's 
house and shop. At the head of Mar- 



quand's wharf was the residence of 
Joseph Marquand, a spacious and 
handsome mansion ; several of the 
neighboring buildings were his pi'op- 
erty, and below on the wharf his six 
spacious warehouses. 

Mr. Abraham Jackson's place of 
business Avas on the corner of Centre 
street, and he had two large ware- 
houses on his wharf. Mr. Joseph 
Moulton and his son William, had a 
large jeweller's and silversmith's shop 
on Broadway. Mr. David Wood 
made clocks, in a shop which was one 
of the front rooms of his dwelling 
house on vState street. It was common 
to convert the front room of a house 
into a shop. Most of the smaller 
groceries and variety stores were kept 
in this way. A door led from the 
shop into the living rooms of the fam- 
ih' ; thus the mistress of the domicile 
could tend the shop, while attending 
to her household duties. Mr. AVood's 
clocks were the tall, mahogany-cased 
time-keepers then fashionable. The 
dial, in addition to the usual face, was 
furnished with a second hand ; some 
told the day of the month, the maker's 
name being inserted in the centre, 
below a bouquet of roses. These 
clocks were in great demand, scarcely 
a house was without them in all the 
region about. Mr. Samuel T. DeFord 
and Charles L. Emerson carried on a 
large business in hats and furs on 
Merrimac street. Mr. Porter Russell 
Messrs. Edward and Abner Toppan 
did a large business in the manufacture 
and sale of furniture. Mr. Abner 
Toppan had a two ' story shop contig- 
uous to his house on High street. Mr. 
Stephen Toppan on Toppan's lane was 
a distinguished architect and builder. 
Mr. Timoth}' Palmer was celebrated, 



OF A N^OXAGENAKIAJSr. 



233 



not only as an architect and carpenter, 
but as a bridge builder ; several of the 
best bridges in the country were from 
his designs. Miss Mary Jenkins' mil- 
linery establishment was in her house 
on Water, corner of Market street. 
Green and Harris streets were now 
lined with handsome houses, most 
of which had been built since m}- 
recollection. The first house on the 
lower side of Green from High street 
was built b}' Mr. Potter, who carried 
on a thi'iving business at cabinet 
making. The next was Mr. Tom. 
Clarke's. The house on the corner of 
Green and Harris, and the next on 
the upper side of Harris street, Mr. 
Leonard Smith built for his two sons, 
John and William, and here they had 
recently installed their brides. John 
married Mary, daughter of Jonathan G. 
Parsons, and great-granddaughter of 
Rev. Jonathan Parsolis, and William, 
Miss JNFai'y, second daughter of Mr. 
Abraham Jackson. On the corner 
opposite stood the residence of Mr. 
Allen Dodge. Col. John Greenleaf's 
came next, then Mr. Israel Young's. 
That of Jonathan Gage, esq., was on 
the upper corner of Pleasant street, 
and Robert Laird's house and brewery 
were on the one opposite. Below the 
brewery came the Washington Hall 
building. A two-story wooden edifice, 
the hall in the second story, dwellings 
and a school room below. On the 
corner of Water street stood the Gen- 
eral Titcomb house, one of the old and 
splendid colonial mansions now some- 
what lapsed into decay and let as a 
tenement house. The first house on 
the upper side from Brown's square 
was built by Judge Bradbury. After 
he left the town it was purchased by 
Capt. Robert Jenkins. Mr. Joseph 

30 



Cutler built the house above, but at 
this time it was owned and occupied by 
Mr. Abraham Jackson. This gentle- 
man, a descendant from an English 
family of note, was for some years 
one of our first merchants. Mr. 
Jackson twice married. The first 
wife was Mary Mitchell, of Boston, the 
mother of one son, Nathaniel, and two 
daughters, Ann and Mary ; the second, 
Hannah Parsons, granddaughter of 
Rev. Jonhthan Parsons, also had one 
son and two daughters, Isaac Rand, 
Ellen and Charlotte. Miss Ann long 
ranked among the brilliant stars of 
society, possessing a vivid imagination 
and much theatrical talent. One who 
ever listened to her thrilling tales, 
would nevei- forget her descriptive 
a))ility, or her tragic powers. 

Mary, Mrs. William Smith, was one 
of the most attractive of women, pos- 
sessing rai'e attainments. After her 
husljand's death she established a flour- 
ishing seminary at Alexandria, D. C, 
where she drew around her the daugh- 
ters of some of the most distinguished 
families in the country ; her house be- 
came the centre for the best society in 
the "District;" the names of the great- 
est statesmen of the period, and many 
eminent foreigners were enrolled among 
her personal friends. 

Ellen married Admiral George Fred- 
erick Pearson, U. S. Navy. A viva- 
cious and cultivated lady, Mrs. Pearson 
adorned the elevated position to which 
she was called, winning the esteem of 
those with whom she became connected. 
Isaac Rand Jackson died young. At the 
time of his death he was Charge de 
Affairs from United States to Denmark. 
He married Louisa Carroll, granddaugh- 
ter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton. 

Previous to the purchase of the house 



234 



EEMINISCE]!^CES 



on Green street, Mr. Jackson's resi- 
dence was on Water street, near that 
of Joseph Marquand. When the old- 
est son, Nathaniel, was eighteen, Mr, 
Marquand being a representative at 
the General Court in Boston, 3'oung 
Jackson passed the night at his neigh- 
bor's. Before retiring, Mrs. Mar- 
quand would order a large armful of 
wood and some half dozen mould can- 
dles, then bid the young man good 
night, with the remark: "Now, Nat, 
read just as long as 30U please." 

In the Revolutionary war one of Mr. 
Marquand's prizes contained a library, 
the property of the Governor-General 
of Canada, which that dignitary had 
forwarded to England preparatory to 
following himself. Naturally a devour- 
er of books, this large collection of the 
best authors was a rare treat, and night 
after night the visitor, forgetting time, 
pored over the pages, which often were 
of the old fashioned brownish paper, 
and fine type, until his eyesight entire- 
ly failed. This weakness of the eyes, 
changed his whole career. He left his 
father's counting room, and, as super- 
cargo, entered upon a life on the "ocean 
wave." For years foreign lands and 
tongues were more familiar than his 
own. He became an apt business man, 
a distinguished linguist, a remarkably 
well informed and most accomplished 
gentleman. His knowledge of Spanish 
was such that in the war of 1812, while 
sailing under Spanish colors, he was 
kept three days on board of a British 
man-of-war without disclosing his na- 
tionality, though every artifice was used 
to catch him off his guard. On the 
third day he was permitted to return to 
his ship, which proceeded on its course. 
Some time after having been captured, 
Mr. Jackson, when on parole in London, 



met an officer of the vessel in which he 
had been detained. This Lieutenant 
had striven by every device to startle 
young Jackson into somC unguarded 
exclamation, but without avail. In- 
stantly recognizing the pseudo Span- 
iard, he gave his hand with a cordial 
greeting, exclaiming " I knew you was 
a Yankee all the time, who ever saw a 
blue-eyed Spaniard ? But you was such 
a deuce of a clever fellow we could not 
detain you." 

Mr. Jackson married, in GottenI)urg, 
Miss Johanna Tod, a lady of Swedish 
birth, but of Scottish parentage. His 
eyes having regained their strength he 
ceased his wanderings. At his house 
in Newbur^'port he often entertained 
distinguished foreigners. Bishop Chev- 
ereaux, on his visits to the place, never 
left without calling to enjoy a chat in 
his native tongue ; later several 3'oung 
men from the Spanish West India 
islands availed themselves of his in- 
struction in learning English. The 
tidings that Nat. Jackson had contract- 
ed a marriage abroad made no small 
stir amongst the belles of Newbury- 
port, but time showed the wisdom of 
his choice. Lovely, devoted, well did 
Mrs. Jackson fulfil the vow to love 
and cherish for better for worse, for 
richer for poorer, in sickness and in 
health. The friend and companion, as 
well as the watchful and judicious 
mother of her children, a kind neigh- 
bor and faithful friend, none knew her 
but to love her. To the choice circle 
admitted to her intimacy, she became 
dear as a sister, and the 3'outhful com- 
panions of her sons and daughters, will 
ever cherish the memorj- of one, who, 
by her grace and urbanity-, her sympa- 
thetic interest in their joys and griefs, 
her man}- little devices for their enter- 



OF A NOISTAGENARlAlSr. 



235 



tainment and amusement, made so 
many sunny hours, which will ever 
gleam undimmed amidst the recollec- 
tions of the past. 

C'apt. and Mrs. Jackson reared a gifted 
family of four sons and three daughters. 
The second daughter married Capt. 
Joseph C. Hoyt, one of the most suc- 
cessful ship masters of Newburyport, 
who died on the 5th of June, 1880. 
Andrew, the second son, died in boy- 
hood. Thomas the eldest, and Coi'- 
nehus Souchay, the youngest, settled in 
St. Louis, where both died, the former in 
middle life, the latter in early manhood. 
Highl}- beloved and respected, a large 
circle, both at the east and west, mourn 
their early death. To the versatility 
of talent, hereditary in the family, to 
Soucha}' was given a fine artistic genius, 
a Hogarthian power to portray-, with 
lifelike vividness, as if b}' magic, the 
persons and scenes around him, slight 
pencil sketches, but these depict a pow- 
er that needed only practice, to have 
placed him amongst the most eminent 
of world-renowned artists. Nathaniel, 
the third son, won a brilliant record in 
the war of the rebellion. Entering the 
army as Colonel of the first Maine regi- 
ment, \hree months men, he continued 
in the service, after the return of the 
regiment. Wounded at the battle of 
Gaines' Mills, he was promoted to the 
rank of Brigadier-General for his 
gallantry. He accompanied Sherman 
through his Southern campaign, leaving 
the army, at the end of the war, with 
the rank of Major-General 1)}' brevet. 



The arms of Jackson (Southgate) 
CO. Middlesex, are : 




fU'LES, A GREYHOUND COURANT, IN A FESSE OB, BE- 
TWEEN THREE PHE0N8 OR. CREST— A GREYHOUND 
PASSE SA, COLLARED OR, RESTING THE DEXTER 
FOOT ON A PHEON OF THE LAST. 

The next house, on the corner of 
Green and Union (now Washington) 
street, was built by Capt. Babson, from 
Gloucester, who came to Newburyport 
for business facilities. It was pur- 
chased by Col. Fowle, and after his 
decease it was occupied by Joseph Cut- 
ler, who married Col. Fowle's widow. 
Mr. Cutler, the cashier of the Merri- 
mac Bank, died suddenly, early in the 
present century. The lower half of 
the house, at the time of Mr. Cutler's 
death, was occupied by Mrs. Cutler's 
nephew, Mr. Joseph Hooper. This 
gentleman, a grandson of Robert, com- 
monly styled "King" Hooper, of Mar- 
blehead, and Benjamin Harris, the dis- 
tinguished merchant of Newburyport, 
and son of Joseph Hooper, the royalist, 
was born after his father went to Eng- 
land. In several ways this young man 
was despoiled of a large fortune. His 
father's property was confiscated by 
o-overnment ; his furniture had been 
previously burned by his indignant 
townsmen; through treachery and 



236 



REMINISCENCES 



fraud he lost an estate in Boston, on 
Pemberton hill, which by right belonged 
to his mother. Pemberton square has 
been laid out on this i^ropert}'. Noth- 
ing daunted, Mr. Hooper gathered the 
renniants of his patrimony and opened 
a Crocker}' store in Blunt's building, 
State street. Soon after he was united 
in marriage with Miss Mary Whitmore, 
the daughter of Col. Joseph AVhitmore, 
a veteran of the Revolution, whose 
residence was on Fair street. Mr. and 
Mrs. Hooper reared a large and highly- 
talented famil_y of sons and daughters. 
Afterwards Mr. Hooper occupied the 
three-story house on Washington, near 
Boardman street, for some 3'ears the 
residence of Enoch S. Williams, esq. 
In the rear of this house, Mr. Williams 
established the first comb factory in the 
place, and in this house Mr. and Mrs. 
Hooper's fourth daughter, Lucy, the 
able writer, was born. Thougli she 
passed from eartli in early womanhood, 
her name had l)ecome enrolled among 
the sweet singers and celebrated au- 
thors of America. 

The Hooper coat of arms are : 

ok, on a fesse between three boars, passe azuue, 

as many annulettes of the first. crest — 

boar's head eraseu at neck, azure. 

bessantie armed and crineu. 

The Harris arms are : 

AZURE, A CHEVRON ERMINE, BETWEEN THREE lIEDCiE- 

HOCiS, OR ON A CHIEF, THE PRUSSIAN EAGLE WITH 

IMPERIAL CROWNS. GREST — A HEDGEHOG OR. 

SUPPORTERS OP ARMS, ON THE DEXTER 

SIDE EAGLE, ON SINISTER A STAG. 

Mrs. Joseph Cutler, as Miss Alice 
Hooper, had been a celebrated beauty. 
Her portrait, b}^ Cople}', has excited 
universal admiration. The lady is 
painted in a dress of blue satin, with 
antique bodice, full skirt, and demi- 
open sleeves, finished by double lace 
rufiles, with stomacher to match, neck- 



lace and ear-jewels of pearls, hair 
brushed from the forehead and turned 
over a roll at the Ijack. One hand 
hangs gracefully at her side, the other, 
outstretched, catches the sparkling- 
drops from an old-fasljioned aqueduct. 
Bejond is a wood, lighted by a shim- 
mer of sunset glow ; through openings 
the eye catches glimpses of an open 
country, stretching far in the distance, 
with a gleaming horizon, barred by 
ruddy cloud streaks. AVords are inad- 
equate to describe the perfection of 
this painting. The shadow of the lace 
upon the arm is a wonderful specimen 
of art, and one listens to hear the tin- 
kle of the fountain, or stoops to catch 
the pellucid drops from the maiden's 
fair hand. 

Newburyport at that time was rich in 
Copley's paintings. Mr. Joseph Hoop- 
er had a likeness of his father, and IMrs. 
Natlianiel Tracy, whose . maiden name 
was ]\Tary Lee, niece of Mrs. Robert 
Llooper, had life-size portraits of her 
father and mother. The pair are painted 
in the dress fashionable at the time of 
their marriage. Mrs. Lee is depicted 
coming from a garden laden with roses. 
These are magnificent pictures. I liaA'c 
been told that the artist ranked them 
among his very best. The only picture 
by this distinguished artist at present 
remaining in the city of which I have 
any knowledge, is a pastel, half size 
portrait of the third daughter of Rob- 
ert, or "King" Hooper of . Marble- 
head, Rebecca, wife of Lewis Jenkins. 
Mr. Jenkins for 3'ears kept a dry goods 
store on State, corner of Essex street, 
at the sign of the golden ball. He died 
in 1799. The portrait is that of a 
young lady in the dress of the period, 
cut low, square in the bosom, and 
trimmed with rich lace, the hair turned 



OF A NONAGEN^AKIAl^. 



237 



over a roll, and oruaniented l)y flowers. 
The face and fignre present the delicate 
lieaut}-, and high bred grace which 
characterized the ladies of the Hooper 
famil}'. This pictnre has descended to 
a grandniece, Mrs. Caroline (CJallis- 
han) Cnrrier of Belleville. Eoliert, or 
King, Hooper was born in Marblehead. 
His lather came from AViltshire, Eng- 
land, amongst the earliest settlers of 
this country. Robert married Kuth, 
daughter of Mr. Joseph Barnard 
Swett, a prominent merchant. They 
had six sons and four daughters, Mrs. 
Dal ton, Mrs. Cutler, Mrs. Jenkins, 
the fourth. Hniniah, who married a 
White. His son Stephen owned the 
"Hooper farm," on Pipestave hill, 
afterwards purchased by my uncle 
John Coker. Mr. Robert Hooper was 
one of the principal founders of Mar- 
blehead prosperity. His fellow-towns- 
men held him in high esteem, and 
styled him " King Hooper," as a mark 
of honor. Mr. Hooper owned a line 
countiy seat in Dan vers, Avhich is 
now the property of Mr. Francis Vea- 
body. This was a magnilicent estate, 
one of the handsomest of the grand old 
colonial mansions, with appointments 
an(b grounds to match ; the place was 
famed for its beautiful trees. The 
walls of the best rooms were hung with 
tapestry, and the furnishings etpialled 
it in splendor. At the commencement 
of the Revolutionary war the British 
for a time quartered troops upon the 
place, and so well was it stocked with 
all that was requisite for man and 
beast, that the soldiers were not 
obliged to go elsewhere for supplies. 

Though his son Joseph chose to re- 
main lo^-al to King George, Robert 
Hooper was a true patriot. At the 
beginning of the war he refused the 



offer to be made King's C'ommissioner, 
an extremely lucrative situation. 

The Rev. John Pierpont, during his 
residence in Newburyport, occupied 
the Cutler house for a time. 

On the upper corner of CTreen and 
Union streets, was the mansion built by 
Judge Parsons, then owned and oc- 
cupied by Leonard Smith. Mrs. Smith 
was a sister of General Peabody. Mr. 
Smith at that time ranked amongst our 
wealthiest and most active merchants. 
Al)ove came the long, low school-house 
I have mentioned. The corner border- 
ing on High street was an open field. 
The first of the three-story houses on 
Harris street, from Green, was built 
and at that time Occupied by Obadiah 
Parsons, the second by Samuel Dole, 
the last, next to State, by Capt.. Sam- 
uel Chase. 

The lower side of T3'ng street and 
T()pi)an's lane formed the dividing line 
of Newburyport from Newbury. The 
house on the corner of High and Tyng 
streets was built by Thomas Coker, who 
also built the house on the upper cor- 
ner, in Newbury ; the one below, down 
Tyng street, was built by Humphrc}- 
Webster. The second on High was 
the residence of Abner Toppan ; the 
three-story house on the coi'ner of 
High and Broad streets was built by 
Moses Fraiser, esq. ; at this time it was 
owned and occupied 1)3' Capt. Jacob 
Greenleaf. The next, on Piroad street, 
was built by Capt. Moses Goodrich ; 
the one below by Thomas Coker. this 
gentleman was the father of my uncle 
John Coker, of West Newbury. At 
this time the house was owned and 
occupied 1)}' a Mr. Brown. The hand- 
some residence of Tom. Thomas came 
next ; below that, Moses Coffin, the 
father of Mr. Emery and Col. Fred- 



238 



EEMINISCEN'CES 



erick Cofflu, had built a three-story 
house ; further clov\-n was the residence 
of Capt. Fletcher. 

Mt. Rural, the estate of Dr. Josinh 
Smith, bordered the upper side of High 
street, from Toppan's lane nearly to 
Kent street ; fields intervened to Com- 
mon pasture lane, now Johnson street. 
The first house on the lower side below 
Broad was the residence of Dr. Bond ; 
the next had recently been erected by 
William Swain ; the brick house on the 
corner of Kent street was built and 
owned by IMcssrs. Enoch and Ste- 
phen Toppan : a field separated Kent 
from Buck street. Capt. Buck's hand- 
some brick house was on the lower cor- 
ner of Buck street ; Mr. Woodman's be- 
low. Opposite, on the lower corner of 
Pasture lane, was the new three-story 
house of Capt. Wilham Hoj-t ; below 
was the residence of Capt. Charles 
Goodrich ; next came the elegant man- 
sion of John Tracy ; l^elow was the 
Dexter house, then Caldwell's tavern. 
On the lower corner of Olive street 
stood the old Frothingham house, the 
birth place of the wife of Lord Tim- 
oth}' Dexter ; below came the I'assett 
house and the residence of Mr. Porter 
Kussell. A house owned by Mr. Wil- 
liams was on the upper corner of 
Boardman street ; and Capt. Lunt's on 
the lower. The elegant residence of 
Dr. James Morse, rector of St. Paul's 
church, came next ; below were the 
handsome mansions of Capt. Tristram 
Coffin, Capt. William Faris, Mr. Ab- 
ner Wood and Jonathan Pettingell. 
The old Pettingell house was below on 
the upper corner of Winter street. 
Next to the Dexter house garden,, on 
the upper side, was theTitcoml) house, 
and a two-story house, built, I believe, 
b}' a Mr. Somerby ; next was the rec- 



toi-y of St. Paul's parish, at that period 
occupied by the widow of P.ishop Bass. 
Below were the handsome three-story 
houses built and occupied by Capt. 
Wyatt and Samuel A. Otis, esq. ; next 
came the Carey house, the former resi- 
dence of the Eev. Thomas Carey of 
the first church ; Mr. Philip Bagley's, 
Enoch Toppan's. and that of Deacon 
Parker followed, with the Cooper and 
Packard houses. Below Star alley was 
the Horton house and a row of old 
stA'le domiciles ; on the corner next the 
mall stood the mansion of Daniel Farn- 
ham, esq. Jacob W. Pierce occupied 
the house on the lower corner of Winter 
street; next came the Marsh house 
and the old Bailey place ; below, St. 
Paul's church and church-yard. On 
the opposite corner of Market street 
was the Morse house, fjimous in the 
annals of witchcraft, a picturesque old 
fashioned building painted red ; below 
came the Hodge house, and the resi- 
dence of Dr. Adams on the upper cor- 
ner of Court street. Below the mall, 
on the -upper side, were the residences 
of William Moulton and William Green- 
leaf, the academy and the handsome 
mansions on the ridge. Judge Liver- 
more's, Capt. Abraham Wheelwright's, 
IMr. Stocker's, Capt. Eben Wheel- 
wright's, Deacon Solomon Plaskell's, 
Eichard Pike's, Capt. John O'Brien's, 
Capt. Philip Coombs', and Elias Hunt's. 
The old Prout house and that of Capt. 
Benjamin Pierce stood below. ])r. 
Charles Coffin's was the last house be- 
fore crossing the Newbury line. 

On the lower side the first house 
from Newbury was that of Samuel Mil- 
liken ; then came Capt. Micajah Lunt's, 
the old Tom Cross house, Capt. Sam- 
uel Swett's, Anthony Davenport's, and , 
Capt. Holland's, on the lower corner of 



OF A NO]!^AGENARrAIir. 



239 



Federal street. Fields stretched from 
Federal to the lower side of State 
street ; the old Buntiu house stood 
oil the upper corner. The four- 
story brick block on Brown'^ square 
had been recentl}' built. On Market 
street were the handsome residences of 
the Hortons, Stephen Frothingham, 
Edmund Bartlett, and Capt. Isaac 
Stone. The Hoyt mansion was on 
Boardman street, with the Johnson's, 
Gallishan's, and Capt. Fulsifer's. Mr. 
Butler Abbott had a handsome estab- 
lishment on Kent street ; Capt. Sam- 
uel liailey's residence was on Spring- 
street. Captains Eleazer and William 
P. Johnson, William Coombs, and 
William Bartlett, esq., occupied hand- 
some houses on Federal street. Capt. 
Nicholas Johnson had recently pur- 
chased the large brick house on the 
Boston turnpike, built by William 
Wooart, esq ; Mr. Seth Sweetser built 
and occupied the one below. Capt. 
John Coombs resided on Water, corner 
of Lime street ; Judge Greenleaf 's 
' residence was on the corner of Union 
and Titcomb streets. The At wood 
house stood on Lime, corner of Atwood 
street. Besides the residences I have 
named, there were many others, both 
spacious and elegant, scattered through- 
out the town. A stable was attached 
to the better class of houses, and man}' 
of the more common had a barn for the 
accommodation of a cow if not a 
horse. Most families had one or more 
cows, which in summer were pastured 
in the upper or lower common ; when 
returning home at nightfall the}' made 
quite a drove. The more prominent 
citizens usuall}' had a horse, and some 
kept a coach and span. 

There were three Masonic lodges : 
St. John's, St. Peter's and St IMark's. 



St. Peter's occupied W^ashington hall ; 
I think St. John's asseml)led in Madi- 
son hall in the Phoenix building, and 
that St. Mark's joined with St. Peter's. 

Samuel Bartlett, a 3'ounger brother 
of Col. Bartlett, occupied the lower half 
of his house. Mr. Samuel Bartlett was 
a Mason. When I was a child the breth- 
ren often assembled at his residence. 
The}' occupied the front chamber, where 
tliey would keep up a most tremendous 
racket until a late hour. 

IVIrs. Bnrtlctt was a delicate woman 
with small children, and my aunt was 
subject to nervous headaches. I won- 
dered that they bore the infliction with 
any patience. For myself I obtained a 
great dislike to the order, and firmly 
believed in the red hot gridiron and 
ever}' other dial:)olical invention. 



CHAPTER XL VII. 

At this time the old English stj'le 
had not wholly passed from society ; 
there was more of precedent and caste 
than now. 

The professional men and their fam- 
ilies held the first rank, then came the 
merchants, town and national officers, 
shipmasters, the more prominent and 
wealthy mechanics, etc. Politics sepa- 
rated the elite ; though sometimes meet- 
ing on common ground, usually there 
was but slight social fraternization. 
There were Federal and Jacobin clubs, 
military companies, balls and parties. 
One lady would not call upon another 
of the opposite party ; gentlemen were 
scarcely civil to each other ; much ran- 
cor, bitterness and scorn were shown 
upon both sides. The artillerj' compan}^ 



240 



REMINISCEN^CES 



were Jacobins, the " Silver Grej's" 
Federalists. The leading Jacobins were 
Capt. Benjamin Pierce, the O'Brians, 
Mr. Marqnand, Capt. Russell, Dr. 
Smith, of Mt. Rural, the Williams 
family, Capt. Richards, and others. 

Most of my town relatives were 
Federalists. Through my Johnson, 
Little and Smith ancestry, I was con- 
nected with the Johnsons, Crosses, 
Coombs', Wheelwrights, NoN'es', Bart- 
letts, and other of older families. At 
their residences, and those of ni}^ nncles 
Peabod}' and Bartlet, I met the most 
brilliant stars in the Federalist galaxy. 
My gi-eat-uncle Daniel Johnson was 
the black sheep amongst his Fedcn-alist 
brethren. At Gov. (Kerry's election 
the opi)osition got up all sorts of slurs : 
one was a caricature called a ''(gerry- 
mander." Uncle Daniel took [)ains to 
procure a copy wliich he sent to me. 
The Democratic party also had the 
ascendency in the legislature. lu IS 12 
the old senatorial districts were re- 
arranged, and the Federalists, in de- 
rision, drew this tigure, as representing 
Essex countv : 




J^ Gerrymander. 



The picture uncle Johnson sent to me 
was in the Newbnryport Herald, and 
covered two-thirds of one page of that 
sheet. 

The Embargo Act wholly disarranged 
the business of Newbnryport ; for a 
time it brought much suffering. It was 
but natural that opposition to the pol- 
icy of the administration should be 
nearly universal. On the first anniver- 
sary of the passage of the act, the Hags 
were hung at half mast, the bells were 
tolled, and minute guns were fired ; 
while a procession of sailors bearing 
crape on their arms marched through 
the streets, headed by a dismantled 
vessel drawn bj' horses on a cart. This 
craft bore a flag inscribed : " Death to 
Connncrce." On the quarter-deck 
stood a sailor with a glass in his hand, 
and a painted motto bore the words : 
-A\'hich way shall I steer?" Occa- 
sionally the sailor threw the leatl. Op- 
posite the custom house he delivered an 
address appropriate for the day and 
the Federalist part}'. 

In 1809 the Embargo gave place to 
the Non-Intercourse Act. Negotia- 
tions with Great Britain followed, 
which resulted in the release of our 
citizens impressed into her service. 
In 1810 France repealed her conti- 
nental decrees. Business revived, and 
shipbuilding again became active. 

The l)rilliant coterie of which Judge 
Parsons, and his law students, Robert 
Treat Paine, Rufus King, John Quinc}' 
Adams and other talented joung men, 
the Jacksons, Daltons, Tracys, Green- 
leafs, Hoopers, and other distinguished 
families, the Misses Fraiser, Atkins, 
Searle, P>radbury, Farnham, Thomas, 
Jenkins, and other belles and beauties, 
who graced the assemblies at the old 
Tabernacle in Temple street, in mj- 



OF A NOKAGEKARIA^. 



241 



mothers giii-liood, had been succeeded 
by another generation. Of the clergy- 
men's families, the three daughters of 
Parson Giles had just entered society. 
Dr. Andrew's oldest son was in col- 
lege and Margaret was in her teens. 
Dr. Spring's oldest sons were also 
collegians. Dr. Dana's and Parson 
Milton's children were small. Dr. 
Morss had recently married Miss 
Mai'tha Boardman. Dr. Micajah Saw- 
yer was the senior phj'sician, his two 
daughters, Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Schu}'- 
ler, had been married scA'eral j'ears. 
I vividly recall the grandeur of their 
nuptials. Dr. Francis Vergnies, a 
Frenchman, a ph3\sician of much skill, 
and extensive practice, lived and died 
a bachelor. His home for many years 
was on the lower corner of Union, 
(now Washington,) and Market streets. 
Dr. Nathan Noyes had married Miss 
Mary Niles, of Hanover, N. H., and 
established himself in Newburyport, 
where he was fast becoming a celebrit3\ 
Dr. Bricket, had moved into town fi'om 
the lower parish in Newbur}^, where he 
still had a large practice. Dr. Pres- 
cott, who had recently establislied him- 
self in the place, with his wife and 
lovely daughters, was fast acquiring a 
wide spread popularity. Dr. Johnson, 
a young man and unmarried, had just 
received his diploma. 

Theophilus Bradbury, judge of the 
Supreme Court of Massachusetts, died 
in 1803. Judge Parsons, when a stu- 
dent, read law in the office of Theoph- 
ilus Bradbury, who was a member of 
Congress from this district during 
Washington's administration . 

Judge Livermore was then the oldest 
and the most distinguished of the legal 
fraternity of the town ; he was also 
our representative to Congress. His 

31 



daughter. Miss Harriet Livermore, 
from childhood had been noted for 
eccentricity ; her singular conduct and 
conversation was a frequent topic for 
remark. 

William B . Bannister esq. , had recent- 
ly formed a partnership with Edward 
Little. 

Tom Care}', the son of the late Rev. 
Thomas Carey, a talented, highly edu- 
cated, polished and entertaining j'oung 
man, would probably have acquired a 
high reputation, had he not, like too 
many others of that generation, suc- 
cumbed to the demon of dissipation. 
Possessed of wealth, a handsome per- 
son, pleasing address and rare accom- 
plishments and culture, with a power 
of adapting himself to any society, 
great wit, humor and generositj', not- 
withstanding his convivial proclivities, 
as 3'et he held posts of trust and honor, 
gentlemen hailed him' as the prince of 
good fellows, and ladies, with whom he 
was a general favorite, smiled their 
sweetest at his approach. 

One evening, Tom Care}' and a num- 
ber of other young men had been hold- 
ing an orgie, in a low tavern near Mar- 
ket square. About midnight they sal- 
lied forth, "half seas over." The 
northern sky was brilliant with an au- 
rora, but in their muddled condition 
Tom's companions took it for a fire at 
the north end, and commenced to give 
an alarm. " Shtop, shtop, " cried Tom, 
"don't scream, its only the Rora Bo- 
lls, keep to the west, keep to the 
west !" The next afternoon, sobered 
and shaved, curled, powdered and 
cued, in fine broadcloth, Wellington 
boots, bell crowned beaver, kid gloves 
and gold headed cane, Mr Carey ac- 
companied b}' Dr. Spring, as school 
committee, was making the round of 



242 



KEMIXISCEl^CES 



the schools. As thej" passed clown- 
State street, old Morrill, a rough, saucj^ 
blackguard, stood at the door of his 
boarding house, and esp3'ing the pair, 
he shouted, " Keep to the west Mr. 
Carey, keep to the west. " Tom had 
the grace to color, while his compan- 
ion looked the curiositj- he was too 
polite to form into a question. Mr. 
Care}^ passed the matter by some re- 
mark, and for a time it was noticed 
he was remarkably circumspect in his 
conduct, but the stor}' became current, 
and ' ' keep to the west, " remained a 
jest for a long time. 

William H. Prince, Ebenezer Mose- 
le}', Sam L. Knapp. John Scott and 
Moody Noyes, were all young lawyers 
boarding at Coburn's Hotel in the Tra- 
cy House. Tom Carey also boarded 
with Coburn. This 1)evy of 3"0ung 
attornej'S were a special attraction to 
the belles of the period. The previ- 
ous Fourth of July Squire Moseley de- 
livered an oration in the Pleasant 
street meeting-house ; there was a pro- 
cession, fine music, and a grand gala 
through the da}' and evening. Young 
Moseley acquited himself with great 
eclat and some of the enthusiastic 
misses plaited a crown of laurels as a 
gift for the orator, but not having the 
courage to present it, he never knew 
the proposed honor, though ever after 
he was known amongst them as the 
" laurel crowned Demosthenes. " 

Sam L. Knapp was a splendid man, 
the prince of beaux, winning his wa}' as 
by enchantment, particularly distin- 
guished as a belles-lettres scholar, he 
wielded the pen of a read}- writer, his 
imagination was AT.vid, his power of 
description graphic, his conversation 
both brilliant and instructive. 

Moody Noyes, a promising young 



man, modest and retiring in societ}", 
died young. Jacob Gerrish was 
another young lawyer, and Stephen 
Hooper, a son of Mr. Stephen Hoop- 
er of the Pipe-stave hill farm. 

Messrs. Clark, Chandler and Ad- 
ams, Archibald McPhail, AsaW. Wildes, 
Benjamin A. Gould, George Tit- 
comb and Joseph Gleason, the editor 
and publisher of the "Statesman," 
the Democratic newspaper, were favor- 
ites in societ}'. Arthur Gilman, John 
Porter, David Peabody, George Pea- 
body, Francis B. Somerby, Fdward 
Toppan jr., Joseph Huse, George 
Cross, Oliver and Prescott Spalding, 
Abner, William, James, John and 
Alexander Caldwell, and their cousin 
Wilham Caldwell, Moses Osgood, 
John Chickering, Jonathan Coolidge, 
Hemy Frothingham, John R. Hudson, 
Edward S. and Isaac Rand, Isaac 
Rand Jackson, Joseph Marqnand, 
Joshua Aubin, Sewell Toppan, Joseph 
Abraham, Robert and William Wil- 
liams, Nathaniel, John, William, 
Thomas, Leonard and David Smith, 
Samuel T. DeFord, Simeon Wade, 
Eben and Charles Hale, Nathaniel 
Greeley, the Johnsons, Greenleafs, 
Stones, Noyes, Balches, of Newbury- 
port, Joseph Balch of Belleville, Jo- 
seph T. Pike, David, Abner and Jerry, 
sons of Abner Wood, William and 
George, sons of the widow Wood, 
were prominent among the rising 
young men. George Wood after- 
wards became a well known author. 
Besides these a number of our j'oung 
men were engaged in business in for- 
eign ports, or as masters or supercar- 
goes of ships ; amongst these were 
Capt. Nathauiel Jackson, Captains 
John and Benjamin Harrod, Capt. 
Green Sanborn, and Capt. Richards. 



OF A N^OJf AGEIS'AEIAN'. 



243 



Capt. Nathaniel Jackson liad just 
brought home his lovely wife. This 
lad}', her infant sou, and his Swedish 
nurse, clad in the costume of her 
countrj', attracted much attention. 
Mr. and Mrs. John Dean and Jacob 
W. Pierce and wife were young, married 
people. Nicholas Johnson had re- 
cently' led to the alter Miss Sarah, old- 
est daughter of Mr. Anthony Daven- 
port. John and WiUiam Smith had 
just established their brides in their 
elegant homes. These ladies with 
Mrs. Tom Thomas, Mrs. Thomas 
Hooper, who was a daughter of Judge 
Bradbury', Miss Ann Jackson, Mr. 
Leonard Smith's niece, Ilitty Smith, 
and his daughter Sarah, were the 
acknowledged queens of society. 

The three daughters of Dr. Smith 
of Mount Rural, Miss IMary, Hannah, 
Judith, and Caroline Little, and the six 
daughters of Mr. John Balch of Belle- 
ville, Mr. Joseph WiUiams' only daugh- 
ter Caroline, Mr. John Tracy's daugh- 
ters Margaret, Mary, Elizabeth and 
Catharine, the daughters of the late 
Nathaniel Tracy, Louisa and Helen, 
Miss Sukey Fowle, and Miss Sally 
Cutler, Mr. Daniel Balch's daughters, 
the Misses Searle, Harrod, Frothing- 
hani, Johnson, White, Wheelwright, 
Marquand, Davenport, Stocker, Faris, 
Greenleaf, Wood and Pierce, Miss Sa- 
rah Hale, Maj. David Coffin's only 
daugliter Mary, Mr. Moses Brown's 
only daughter Mary, Miss Margaret 
Andrews, the Misses Giles, Miss Mary 
Ann Oxuard, Hannah Bartlett, Betsey 
Lawrence, Martha, Sally and Katie 
Caldwell, and their cousin Sally Cald- 
well, Sophronia Peabody and her cous- 
in Sophia, the youngest daughter of 
Leonard Smith were the most promi- 
nent belles. Miss Lydia Osgood, the 



j-oungest daughter of Deacon Osgood 
of the upper parish Newbur}', was a 
general favorite in this circle ; no fes- 
tivity was complete without her. 

Miss Ann Thaxter, a step daughter 
of Joshua Carter, had been married a 
sliort time previous to Nathaniel Par- 
sons of Boston. In his visits to his fi- 
ancee Mr. Parsons created a sensation 
in the neighborhood, as he dashed to 
the door, in his coach and four, with a 
darke}^ in liver}'- holding the ribbons, 
and the splendor of the wedding was 
long remembered. After the bride had 
become settled in her cit}' home, her 
two intimate friends, Mary Brown and 
Sophronia Peabody, paid her a visit. 
The house, which was near Bowdoin 
square, was a large brick structure ; a 
gatewa}' led through a paved court to a 
spacious stable. Over this gateway 
from an arched iron railing was suspen- 
ed a square glass lautern. This was cus- 
tomary' at that period, at the better 
class mansions. The interior of the 
house was magnificent both in propor- 
tion and finish. Mirrors were inserted 
in the drawing room doors to enhance 
the eff'ect. The furniture had been im- 
ported expressly for the house, it was 
both rich and stylish ; glittering chan- 
deliers, and other ornaments embel- 
lished the rooms ; the silken canopy to 
the bed in the guest chamber, was 
gathered around an oval mirror set in 
the centre of the arched top. The 
whole mansion was resplendent with 
French luxury and novel elegance. 

The first class dwellings of New- 
bur3^port, were mostly square struct- 
ures, three stories in height, or of two 
stories with dormer windows in the 
roof; some were gambrel roofed houses. 
There were generally four rooms on 
the lower floor, a spacious hall from 



244 



REMINISCENCES 



which a flight of broad, low stairs, with 
elaboratel}' carved balusters led to the 
storj' above. Usually au L was at- 
tached for an outer kitchen, and a 
court yard, frequent^- flagged, led to a 
stable bej'ond. Gardens were attached 
to most residences, those on the upper 
side of High street usually had exten- 
sive grounds. The heavy claw-footed 
furniture of a previous date had been 
followed by lighter, in the French 
style. Stifl" looking, slender legged 
chairs and sofas were primlj^ ranged 
round the room, with card table to 
match in the piers ; these sometimes 
had marble tops. Above them hung 
large Dutch mirrors. Often the walls 
were adorned with one or more family 
portraits ; these though not Co[)ly's 
were usually good pictures. The 
French Revolution had sent many ref- 
ugees to our shores who had been com- 
pelled to turn their talents and accom- 
plishments to account. Mr. Moses 
Cole painted fine portraits, and he was 
well patronized by his townsmen. An 
engra\ang of the Washington family 
was a favorite picture that could have 
been seen in man}' houses. Carpets 
had come much more generally into 
use. The Turkey carpets bordered 
and fringed had given place to those 
from English looms, though Turke}" 
rugs were still highly' esteemed. Ver^' 
prett}' carpets in striped patterns of 
home construction had become fashion- 
able, and those from rags for common 
use were often seen. 

The dining or sitting room almost 
invariably held a large mahogony side- 
board. Beneath generally stood an (n-- 
namental liquor case, and upon the top 
were some half dozen cut-glass decan- 
ters filled with wine, brandy and other 
liquors ; these were flaulvcd by trays of 



wine glasses and tumblers. The old 
fashioned silver tankard had become 
obsolete, but a display of silver tumb- 
lers was considered desirable. The 
chambers were still furnished with 
hangings to the bedsteads, but bureaus 
had supplanted the case of drawers. 
In many mansions stairs led from the 
china closet to a private cellar, which 
usually was well stocked with choice 
wines and liquors. Our foreign trade 
gave facility for obtaining the best 
brands ; few families were without a 
larger or smaller suppl3^ Cider was 
put in the common cellar and used as 
freely as water. On one occasion Mr. 
Nathaniel Tracy caught his negro serv- 
ing man carousing with a brother darkey 
in the wine cellar, drinking '*to better 
times" from a silver goblet brimming 
with choice old Bordeaux. Chaises 
were now in general use ; there were a 
few barouches ; four-wheeled wagons 
were superseding the two-wheeled 
spring cart. Coaches drawn b}- two 
horses, sometimes four, were the fash- 
ionable equipage ; several were kept 
by families in the town. 

The attire fashionable for a gentle- 
man at that period was similar to that 
I have described as worn b}' Tom Ca- 
rey. Small clothes were still stylish 
for evening parties and balls. The 
French mode prevailed in the costume 
of the ladies. Short, scant rutfled 
skirts, short waists ; for young ladies 
short sleeves, and low necks, especially 
so in the bosom ; an under handker- 
chief fitted so neatly it was scarcely 
discernable, and tuckers finished the 
neck. Long gloves, sashes, and a 
great variety of ornaments were worn 
in full dress. The hair was worn high, 
often the back hair having been divid- 
ed, half fell in curls on the neck while 



OF A ]^onagenaeia:n. 



245 



tlie remainder was wound round the 
comb ; at other tunes it was wholi_y 
braided and twisted into a crown upon 
the head, the front hair ckistered in 
sliort curls over the forehead or on the 
temples. The elder ladies wore vari- 
ously fashioned caps and turbans. Ear 
jewels were universally worn. The 
strings of gold beads so general in my 
mother's girlhood were then deemed 
old-fashioned ; necklaces and chains 
had taken their place ; often a minia- 
ture painted on ivory set in gold was 
worn on the chain. Both my Aunt 
Peabod}' and Bartlett had good like- 
nesses of their husbands, which were 
fine paintings. Brooches, bracelets and 
rings were of various patterns, some 
exceedingly elegant in design. Rich 
threa(J laces were much in demand, and 
linen cambric. The gentlemen's shirt 
bosoms were ruffled with this fabric. 
Silk bonnets were worn, but straw was 
the style. A black satin cloak with 
cape and sleeves was the usual out- 
doors garment for older ladies, for the 
younger, silk pelisses in fanc}' colors 
were fashionable ; both reached below 
the knee and were finished by a trim- 
ming of black lace. Long cloth wrap- 
pers were made for common wear. 
White dresses were worn entirely by 
young ladies when in full dress, and 
usually on Sundays. However cold 
the weather or wet the walking a white 
cambric, with a green, blue, or lilac 
silk pelisse, a straw bonnet trimmed to 
match, white silk stockings and kid 
slippers of the same hue of the pelisse, 
or cork soled morocco walking shoes, 
with a sable muff and tippet, was the 
street dress of a young lady of ton. 
Muslins and gauzes over under dresses 
of satin, with rich trimmings of lace, 
ribbon, spangles, bugles etc., were the 



mode for evening attire. Silks were 
seldom worn excepting by older ladies, 
and woolen fabrics were only admissi- 
ble for home wear. A deal of fun was 
made of Mr. John Balch's daughters, 
because their mother very sensibly- com- 
pelled them to wear crimson bomba- 
zette dresses to a part}' one snapping 
winter night, with the thermometer be- 
low zero. On pleasant days fashiona- 
ble ladies devoted the morning to call- 
ing or receiving visitors. Cake and 
wine were invariabl}' handed to the 
guest. 

One o'clock was the dinner hour for 
all classes. At the first stroke of the 
bells of the Pleasant and Federal street 
churches the streets were filled with a 
hungry throng rnshing homeward. 
There was little ceremonions visiting of 
an afternoon, unless invitations had 
been issued for a tea party. At these 
the ladies assembled from four to five 
o'clock. Tea was served at six. 

In most families there was a boy or 
girl bound to service until the age of 
eighteen. When the hour arrived this 
young servant passed round napkins 
u[)on a salver ; next a man or maid 
servant l)ore round the tray of cups, 
the younger waiter following with the 
cream and sugar. Bread and butter 
and cake succeeded, these were passed 
]'Ound two or thi'ee times, and the 
younger servant stood, salver in hand, 
ready to take the cups to be replen- 
ished. If the gentlemen came to tea, 
and this was the only refreshment, 
sliced ham or tongue were usually add- 
ed, but often there would be a hot meat 
supper at nine or ten o'clock. This 
was a customary meal in many fami- 
lies. In Mr. Leonard Smith's family- 
it was as regular as either of those dur- 
ing the day. As both mj^ aunts con- 



2^6 



REMUNISCEN^CES 



sidered the practice unhealthy it was 
never introduced into their households. 
Dinner parties were common, when the 
table would be loaded with luxuries. 
After the dessert the ladies retired to 
the parlor for an hour's gossip, while 
the gentlemen sipped wine, smoked 
long Dutch pipes and discussed the af- 
fairs of the nation The ladies having 
been rejoined in the drawing room cof- 
fee was passed. These parties were 
often the scene of much conviviality, 
but "being a little after dinnerish" 
it was considered a slight matter, and 
any escapade in consequence was 
wholly overlooked. In 1780 the Mar- 
quis de Chastellux, the Vicomte de Vau- 
dreuil, M. de Talejrand and M. de 
Montesquieu visited Newbnryport ; 
they came from Portsmouth over the 
Merrimac Ferry and stopped at the 
"Wolfe Tavern." These foreigners 
had a letter of introduction to Mr. John 
Tracy, but before it was delivered Mr. 
Tracy and Col. Wigglesworth called to 
invite them to pass the evening with 
Mr. Trac}'. I copy the account of this 
visit from a description written by the 
Marquis de Chastellux, as it is a per- 
fect picture of the tone of society at 
that time and for a long period after. 
M. de Chastellux writes, "This Colonel 
remained with me till Mr. Trac}' fin- 
ished his business, when he came with 
two handsome carriages, well equipped, 
and conducted me and my aide-de- 
Camps to his country house." (This 
was the mansion on High street above 
the former Dexter house.) "This is 
in a ver}" beautiful situation, but of this 
I could myself form no judgment, as it 
was already night. I went, however, 
by moonlight to see the garden, which 
is composed of difterent terraces. There 
is likewise a hothouse and a number of 



young trees. The house is handsome 
and well finished, and everything 
breathes that air of magnificence ac- 
companied with simplicity, which is 
only to be found among merchants. 
The evening passed rapidly by the aid 
of agreeable conversation and a few 
glasses of punch. The ladies we found 
asseml)led were Mrs. Trac}', her two 
sisters, and their cousin Miss Lee. 
Mrs. Tracy has an agreeable and sen- 
sible countenance, and her manners 
correspond with her appearance. At 
ten o'clock an excellent supper was 
served. We drank good wine, Miss 
Lee sung, and prevailed upon Messrs. 
de Vaudreuil and Talej^rand to sing 
also. Towards midnight the ladies 
withdrew, but we continued drinking 
Madeira and Xer^'. IMr. Tracy, ac- 
cording to the custom of the countr}-, 
offered us pipes, which were accepted 
by M. de Tale3rand and M. de Mon- 
tesquieu, the consequence of which was 
that they became intoxicated and were 
led home, where the}' were happ}' to get 
to bed. As to myself, I remained per- 
fectly cool, and continued to converse 
on trade and politics with Mr. Tracy." 

In addition to the entertainments I 
have described were evening parties 
and balls. These parties were often 
large, and music was usually provided 
for dancing, with a choice and elegant 
treat. Sillabub at an earlier day had 
been a fashionable evening beverage. 
There were sillabub tables, small, 
square, four- legged ones, with a narrow 
ledge running round the sides, on 
which were placed the glass sillabub 
bowl and ladle, the mixture, which con- 
sisted of milk, wine or cider, sugar and 
spice, being dipped into tall, slender 
stemmed glasses. The introduction of 
tea brought sillabub into disuse. Ices 



OP A NONAGEXARIAIT. 



247 



had not then become general. Cream 
whipped to a froth, sweetened and 
flavored, was much favored. Served 
in glasses it looked very prett3% and 
''whips" were the one genteel thing for 
an evening soiree. Jellies, various 
cakes, fruit, wines and hot punch were 
the usual additional refreshments. 

The old Tabernacle upon whose 
floor the statel3^ minuet of a preceding 
generation had been danced had given 
place to the new Washington Hall on 
Green street, which had a spring floor, 
considered especially excellent for danc- 
ing. It was reached by two flights of 
stairs leading from the lower entry to 
the one above ; two ante rooms opened 
into this, from which doors led to the 
hall, which was lofty and spacious. 
Large windows draped with red faced 
on either side ; at the upper end was a 
gallery for musicians ; opposite were 
two fireplaces where huge logs crackled 
and sparkled. Round the sides was a 
platform, ^lightly raised above the 
spring floor, upon which stood rows of 
yellow wooden settees. Two glittering 
chandeliers were suspended from the 
ceiling. Upon the mantels and orches- 
tra stood glass candelabra and caudle- 
sticks. 

Here during the winter a series of 
monthly assemblies were held, at which 
the young people danced contra dances, 
four-handed and eight-handed reels, 
while their elders amused themselves 
at the card tables spread in the ante 
rooms. A black waiting maid, and 
two or three sable male waiters were in 
attendance. The refreshments were 
similar to those at the parties. 

It was expected the morning after a 
party or ball that the gentlemen should 
call upon their fair partners to inquire 
respecting their health. It was^com- 



mon for them to drop in of an evening 
sociallj^ SamL. Knapp rendered him- 
self especially welcome, and Tom Ca- 
rey's varied information and fine voice 
fitted him for a most entertaining com- 
panion. Singing was a universal ac- 
complishment. In a few houses a spinet 
or harpsichord could be found, but as 
yet there were but four pianos in the 
town. These belonged to the daugh- 
ters of Parson Giles, MissMar^^ Coffin, 
Miss Catharine Davenport and Miss 
Sophronia Peabody. A French refu- 
gee, formerly a nobleman, whose name 
I cannot recall, came from Boston once 
in two weeks to give these 3'oung la- 
dies lessons. 

The organs in St. Paul's and the 
Pleasant street church were played by 
Mr. Daniel Bayley and William Wood, 
the brother of the author, George 
Wood. 

The pianos were small, Slender- 
legged, tinkling instruments, imported 
from Paris. The music was love songs, 
dancing tunes, etc., "Hail Columbia," 
"Yankee Doodle," the old revolution- 
ary song, "Why should vain mortals 
tremble at the sight of death and de- 
struction on the field of battle," "Moll 
Brooks," "What can the matter be," 
"The Campbells are coming," and the 
duet "Shepherds have 3'ou seen my 
Flora pass this way?" were favorites, 
I copy anode entitled "Freedom's An- 
niversary', " from a music book published 
in 1808 : 

"This day fires our niiiids, 

This day fires our minds, 

This day fires our uiinds 

Witli a flame as arose, 

When our sires drew tlie steel, 

Whicli laid prostrate our foes, 

With mirtli inspiring lay, 

We'll celebrate the day. 
Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts 

away. 



248 



KEMT^S^ISCEN^CES 



Brave heroes who fought, 
Brave heroes who fought, 
Brave heroes who fought, 
And have hibored to crown 

Columbia's rich fields in the pride of renown. 

From your station on high one moiiient look- 
down 

On myriads of wretches tliat grovel around ; 

To Afric's broad zone turn the wings of the 
mind, 

Traverse regions unknown and nations un- 
named. 

Or fly to famed Asia and there you will hear, 

Oppression's loud clangor, hoarse grating the 
ear; 

Or haste to proud Europe, her regions ex- 
plore; 

Mark the myriads that starve, yet kings they 
adore ; 

Disgusted with tyrants^ disgusted with 
slaves, 

Extend fancy's pinions and mount o'er the 
waves, 

To your own native clime, for there you may 
find 

The wisest and happiest of all human kind. 

Thus highly exalted, ne'er cease to adore 

The God of the skies, and his mercies im- 
plore. 

This day fires our minds, 
This day fires our minds. 
This day fires our minds 
With a flame as arose 
When our sires drew the steel 
Which laid prostrate our foes. 
With mirth inspiring lay. 
We'll celebrate the day, 

Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts 
away." 
There is a Thanksgiving anthem : 

"Sing aloud to God our strength, 

Sing aloud to God our strength, 

Sing aloud to God our strength, to God our 
strength. 

Make a joyful noise to him with psalms, to 
him with psalms^ to him with psalms, to 
him with psalms, 

Praise the Lord all ye nations, praise him, 
praise him. praise him all ye people. 
For his mercies are great, his mercies are 
great. 

We will rejoice and give thanks, will rejoice 
and give thanks, will rejoice and give 
thanks, will rejoice and give thanks. 



Let us come before his presence, before his 
presence, before his presence, with 
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, with 
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, and en- 
ter his courts with praise. 

Thou, O Lord, hast crowned the year with 
goodness, with goodness, with goodness. 

The pastures are covered o'er with flocks, 

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn, 

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn. 

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujar, hallelujah, 
hallelujah, amen. 

Hallelujah, amen, amen, hallelujah, hallelu- 
jah, amen, amen." 



CHAPTER XL VIII. 

For some years an orphan asj'lum 
had been established where some half 
dozen girls were reared and instructed, 
until of an age to become bound to ser- 
vice in some family, there to remain 
until eighteen. This institution was lo- 
cated on Federal street, and at that 
time was under the supervision of Mrs. 
Joanna Akerman. The orphans were 
dressed in uniform. On Sunda}', head- 
ed by the matron, they demurely 
walked two and two, in procession, to 
the Old South meetinghouse, where a 
pew in the gallery- was appropriated to 
their use. 

That spring, to the horror of the 
more rigid, two dancing schools were 
opened, one by Mr. Ingalls, at Union 
Hall, the other by Mr. Nichols, who 
"gave lessons as taught by the cele- 
brated Italian master, Mr. Dochoun. 
Gentlemen desirous of practising the 
small sword, cut and thrust, broad 
sword, and a powerful defence wdth the 
cane," were desired to leave their 
names at the bookstore of Thomas & 
Whipple. A convenient bathing house 



OF A N^O:KrAGE:N^ARIA:Nr. 



249 



was also established on Water street, 
above Market square. 

At this time two newspapers were 
supported in Newbur3^port, "The Her- 
ald," which was the Federalist organ, 
and the "Statesman," Democratic. A 
large circulating library was well pat- 
ronized, and there were several good 
private libraries in the town. These 
were anxious times, and the news from 
Europe was impatientl}' awaited. Buon- 
aparte was in the midst of his career, 
his progress was eagerly watched, and 
the accounts of his success were read 
with wonder and avidit}'. Byron and 
Scott had begun to enchant the world, 
"Elizabeth, or the Exile of Siberia," 
was the new novel which every one was 
perusing. 

In speaking of the business of the 
town I omitted the truckmen, compris- 
ing a tall, stalwart band of men, who 
in their long white frocks, made a good- 
ly show in Fourth of July and other 
civic processions. Sometimes of an af- 
ternoon, when the business for the day 
was over, the}^ would drive in a line 
through the streets, their fine horses, 
and long, tilting, clattering trucks 
noisil}' breaking the quiet monotonv. 
In the winter, on their sleds, in this 
way, they frequently volunteered to aid 
in breaking the paths. In addition to 
these drays a large business was done 
by ox teams, one or more pair of oxen 
yoked to a two- wheeled cart. Mr. 
Nathaniel Bricket, Mr. Samuel Wheel- 
er and Mr. Charles Chase were noted 
teamsters. 

Back of the Pond stood a collection 
of low, unpainted huts. This village 
was styled "Guinea." Here were the 
homes of the colored population, of 
which there was quite a number. 
These were mostly descendants of ser- 

32 



vants formerly held as slaves in our 
first households. Many considering 
themselves as still connected with the 
old master's family, in any emergency 
always looked to it for advice, care and 
consideration. 

In those daj's of huge wood fires, it 
was no uncommon thing for the burn- 
ing of a chimney to endanger a whole 
neighborhood. A law was enacted that 
every chimney should be swept once a 
year. Lilly White, a tall, lithe negro, 
was the principal sweep, followed by 
his little apprentice boy bearing a bag 
of clothes. Lilly perambulated the 
streets, brandishing his brooms and cry- 
ing : 

"Lilly White has come to town, 
To sweep the chimney up and clown, 
If he does not sweep them clean 
He shall not have his pistareen." 

Clement Paul, a genteel waiter, was 
a favorite in the upper circles. Joe 
Fatal, Col. Greenleafs dark}'. Old 
Cambridge, who could remember being 
kidnapped when a child and brought to 
this country in a slave vessel, Jimm}^ 
Paul, Sip Burnham and others were 
useful members of society, and respect- 
ed citizens. Man}' colored women did 
washing, and black Luce was a famous 
.nurse . Old Luce Pero , a beggar tramp , 
generally accompanied by one or more 
children, was the horror of the more in- 
fantile population ; the threat "old Luce 
Pero will catch you," was suflficient to 
quell the most turbulent urchin. Co- 
burn had a remarkably aristocratic dar- 
key employed in his hotel. Much ad- 
miring a pair of boots which Ebenezer 
Mosely, esq., had pm-chased, the negro 
waiter strutted into the store of Os- 
good & Brackett, and with a pompous 
air ordered a similar pair, adding, much 
to the amusement of Messrs. Osgood 



250 



REMINISOEJfCES 



& Brackett, "Let 'em be jes like 
Squire Mosele^-'s, only a quarter dollar 
letter:' 

No fish market had been established, 
fresh fish was vended about the streets 
in wheelbarrows. Clams in the shell 
were sold ; none were then shucked. 
Sometimes the "Algeiines" from Sea- 
brook peddled about boiled clams taken 
from the shell, but clams were regarded 
as a plebeian dish, from which many 
persons turned in disgust. The chief 
fishmongers were Flood, and Jim Ball. 

The famous witch of the town was a 
woman known as Madame Hooper. 
Her early history has remained a mys- 
tery. She came to Newbury- about 
1760, and for a time was the dame of 
a school at the south end ; afterward 
she became a famous fortune teller, 
rivalling in celebritj'^ Moll Pitcher of 
L^'nn ; her home on Cottle's Lane being 
visited by persons of all ages and class- 
es from near and afar. In person 
Madam Hooper was short and stout, 
with a strongl3' marked countenance, 
glittering gray e3'es, and a full set of 
double teeth ; her appearance was that 
of one born and bred in good societ}', 
though from the first a peculiarit}' had 
been evinced in her demeanor which in- 
creased with 3'ears. She was well ed^ 
ucated and accomplished, and brought 
with her on coming to town, a ver}^ ex- 
tensive and handsome wardrobe, rich 
brocades and the like, which were worn 
without remodelling to the end of her 
long life. These antique garments, 
with a unique bonnet of her own fash- 
ion, combined with an oracular, sibyllic 
manner, were calculated to inspire cred- 
ulous people with the awe and wonder 
which she coveted. Children ran at her 
approach, and their elders from fear of 
the "evil eye" were lavish in courtes3^ 



Thus the witch carried matters with a 
high hand, visiting where she chose, 
generall3' acting her own pleasure with- 
out much regard to the wishes or con- 
venience of others, few venturing to 
cross one whom so man3' considered as 
possessing supernatural powers. This 
reputation was artfuUy sustained. Often 
her visitors wei'e received in impui'- 
turbable silence, but when an answer 
was vouchsafed it usually was verified. 
This foresight and sagacit3' succeeded 
in securing dupes for man3'3'ears. She 
kept a pet fowl, black in plumage, with 
a clipped bill and claws, which was re- 
gnrded as her "familiar." Madame 
Hooper lived to an advanced age, but 
at length died in povert3'' and degrada- 
tion, unmourned but not unremembered. 
Her name had become a household 
word, which has been handed down 
through the generations as one of the 
marvels of the past. Perhaps if the 
secrets of her life could be unmasked 
we should pit3' rather than condemn. 
Bilty Watkins was a somewhat eccen- 
tric individual, who owned a large es- 
tate on Water street. Foon3' Gerrish, 
a wig maker, often became the jest of 
the populace. Though illiterate, he 
evinced a desire to rank amongst the 
educated. On one occasion a person 
in the bar room of the "Wolfe Tavern" 
perceiving him seemingl3^ intent upon 
perusing a newspaper which was held 
bottom upward, inquired, "What is the 
news, Mr. Gerrish?" "Terrible gales," 
hurriedl3' returned the old man, "terri- 
ble gales, ships all bottom upwards." 
Wishing to be thought a man of busi- 
ness Foon3' bought a ledger. That 
moruing he sold a wig, for which, much 
to the purchaser's astonishment, he de- 
clined to take pa3'ment, "he would 
charge it." At night he detained one 



OF A ]sj^O]S"AGEN'ARIAN'. 



251 



of the 3'oung clerkvS in the neighbor- 
hood to note it down. Having written 
the date the young man inquired the 
name of the debtor. Foony looked 
puzzled, scratched his head, he "never 
thought to inquire the name," but after 
a moment's delibei'ation he added, 
"Never mind, put it down, one wig to 
a man that looked lilce an Amesbury 
man." Whether Foony received the 
price of the wig from this dubiously 
described individual I am unable to 
state. 

Another notoriety was "Bumble Bee 
Titcomb," a carpenter b}' trade. While 
at work at his bench a bumblebee light- 
ed near his hand. Mr. Titcomb raised 
his hatchet, ejaculating, "Now, old fel- 
low, your end has come ! Say your 
prayers, for death is nigh. One, two, 
three — strike !" Down went the hatch- 
et, cutting off the end of Mr. Titcomb's 
thumb, while the bumblebee, having 
flown up and stung the end of his nose, 
buzzed exultantly awaj' through the 
open door. Ever after the carpenter 
v^s known th.oughout the town as 
"Bumble Bee Titcomb." 

Another of the celebrities of the 
town was Mr. Enoch Toppan, common- 
ly called "Ehymer Toppan," as he was 
never at a loss for a rhyme. One day, 
at the market house, Mr. James Ca- 
vey and Mr. Richard Adams laid a 
wager respecting Mv. Toppau's instant- 
ly returning an answer in rhyme. Mr. 
Toppan was across the square. From 
the steps of the market house Mr. 
Carey sang out, "Mr. Toppan, so they 
say, buys his meat and never'll pa3^" 
To which was responded, "Jimm^^ Ca- 
rey, if that be true, I'll always have 
my meat of 3'ou." Mr. Carey was 
obliged to "stand treat." 

For years the chief wonder of the 



place was Lord Timothy Dexter, his 
hairless dog and his images. This man 
was born in Maiden in 1 743. He came 
to Newburyport in early manhood and 
married a Miss Frothingham, from the 
old Frothingham mansion on the corner 
of High and Ohve street. In a short 
time he obtained a large fortune by tak- 
ing advantage of the markets and by 
lucky adventures. His first successful 
speculation was buying up continental 
notes when depreciated, and selhng 
them when a prospect of redemption 
had raised their value. His specula- 
tions in mittens, warming-pans, whale- 
bone and the like, are widel}^ known. 
Though ignorant and illiterate, and 
doubtless somewhat indebted to luck 
for his good fortune, still it is evident 
the man was both shrewd and saga- 
cious. His vanity was inordinate. 
Under any circumstances it is probable 
he would have proved an eccentricity, 
still, such were the convivial habits of 
the period, and constantly surrounded 
as he was, by a band of sycophantic 
boon companions, who spurred him on 
to all sorts of ridiculous sayings and 
doings, one can scarcely judge what the 
character of the man would have been 
under the teetotal regime of Neal Dow. 
Having bought the fine Jackson man- 
sion on High street, nearly opposite his 
wife's maiden home, he began to beau- 
tify it after his own design. Mr. James 
Wilson was a carver of figui^e heads of 
ships. Dexter conceived the idea of 
employing Mr. Wilson to embellish his 
house and grounds with wooden statues. 
These figures were remarkable speci- 
mens in wood carving. In this work 
Mr. Wilson displayed the power of a 
sculptor ; it is a pit}" he never aspired 
to works of greater durability. The 
figures of Washington, Adams and Jef- 



252 



EEMLN'ISCEN'CES 



ferson, over the front door, were excel- 
lent, and the other figures, the eagle 
upon the cupola, and the animals, were 
life-like and in good proportion. Dex- 
ter built a tomb in the garden ; on its 
completion he got up a mock funeral, 
had his wife and family arra^'ed in 
mourning, acted his part as corpse, and 
was borne to the sepulchre with (Tue 
funerul rites. After his resurrection 
and return to the house he beat his wife 
because she did not weep while follow- 
ing him to the grave'. He kept a per- 
son in his house named Jonathan 
Plummer, who styled himself "physi- 
cian, preacher, and poet laureate, to 
his excellency Timothy Dexter, Earl of 
Chester, and Knight of the two open- 
mouthed lions." ■ In those days it was 
the practice to send notes to be read at 
public worship before the long prayer, 
requesting suitable petitions in time of 
aflSiction, or on occasions of joy. Be- 
low is a note sent by the poet laureate, 
and read in his pulpit by the Rev. 
Charles Milton : 

"Jonathan Plummer jr., desires to 
return thanks to the transcendently po- 
tent controler of the universe, for his 
marvellous kindness to him in raising 
him from a desperately low and peril- 
ous indisposition, to such a measure of 
strength and health that he is again 
able with gladness of heart and trans- 
porting rapture of mind, to wait at the 
celestial portals of wisdom. The said 
Plummer also desires to give thanks to 
Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, 
the beginning and the end, for his as- 
tonishing favor, his captivating mere}-, 
and his personal regard to him in 
snatching him from endless grief and 
everlasting woe, in a miraculous man- 
ner ; by light in dreams ; for causing 
the da}" to dawn in his heart, and the 



da3%spring from on high to illuminate 
his dark and benighted understanding ; 
for chasing far from him the gloomy fog 
of infidelity, and enabling him triumph- 
antly to rejoice in the glorious light and 
liberty of the Gospel, wherein his bless- 
ed Redeemer has crowned his happ}' 
life." 

The Rev. Parson IMilton's response 
to these requests was, "O Lord, have 
mercy on this over-pompous brother, 
whose word}' rhetoric has just startled 
our ears ; save us from cant, bombast, 
and all the wiles of the devil. Amen." 

I copy a document of Plummer's, 
headed "The Author's Last Will and 
Testament." "Preparatory Address 
to the Readers. Ladies and -Gentle- 
men : At the request of a number of 
worthy friends, I now furnish you with 
my last will and testament. You will 
doubtless think it a ver}' singular pro- 
duction, and you will think right ; for, 
excepting a few lines in the beginning, 
which are partly borrowed from the last 
will of a celebrated writer, and the last 
paragraph, which is taken from Fisher, 
I believe nothing like it has ever been 
published or written. 

But the will is not more singular than 
the usage which occasioned it. What 
this .usage was I shall not now under- 
take to disclose, for to do justice to the 
subject would I believe require a con- 
siderable number of volumes ; and be- 
sides, my abilities are inadequate, vast- 
ly inadequate to the ponderous task. 
Was the celebrated Cicero again per- 
mitted to live in our world I fancy he 
might talk da}' and night on the sub- 
ject, might entirely exhaust his une- 
(pialed eloquence, might move earth 
and perhaps Heaven, to pity, to com- 
misei'ation, and to tears, and perhaps 
not half disclose the affecting scene, 



OF A nonagei^ap.ia:n^. 



253 



not half display the inexpressible an- 
guish with which the barbarous treat- 
ment of a certain man has oppressed 
my tender soul. 

The resentment which I now display 
is not the eflect of any sudden and un-, 
reasonable gust of passion. I have 
long dispassionately considered the sub- 
ject, and the inlluence of rehgion, of 
justice, of duty to parents, of good 
breeding, and of every other incentive 
to moderation, foil}" onlj' excepted, has 
been in this case eagerly sought after, 
listened to, and properly regarded 
by me. 

I, Jonathan Plummer jr., of New- 
bur}', in the Commonwealth of Massa- 
chusetts, seriously considering the un- 
certaint}' of human life, do, while in a 
sound state of mind, and in tolerable 
bodily health, make this m}- last will 
and testament ; being determined to 
dispose of all ni}' earthh' property, not 
as custom may prompt, but as justice 
and equity seem to direct. I most hum- 
bl}' recommend my soul to the exten- 
sive mercy of that supreme, eternal, in- 
telligent Being, who gave it me ; at the 
same time most earnestly deprecating 
his justice. If I die in Newbury or in 
any place within twent}' miles of it, I 
desire to be buried in the burjing 
ground which is near the meeting house, 
of the first parish in this town, and that 
I may be carried to the grave from my 
own apartment. Should my father, or 
any, or either of my brothers have the 
hypocrisy to follow me in mourning, or 
to walk between m}- coffin and the other 
people who happen to attend my fu- 
neral, 1 desire m}- executor to endeavor 
to prevent their so doing. Should my 
mammy and my oldest sister outlive 
me, I desire them to walk next to ni}- 
coffin dressed in decent customar 



mourning, and as many of the ladies 
whose names I shall mention in this 
will, as happen to attend my funeral, to 
follow them, but not in mourning. As 
the usage I have received from my 
father and brothers has given me tor- 
tures which no tongue can express, I 
do not mean that they shall be much 
the better for my property which I may 
happen to leave in this world. But, 
nevertheless, as my father happened 
somehow or other, when he first made 
a will, so far to forget his enmity as to 
bequeath me about a thirtieth part of 
what he was then worth, as a grateful 
return for this almost miraculous favor, 
I give and bequeath to him the sum of 
seventeen shillings ; which is not far 
from a thirtieth part of what I was pos- 
sessed of when I for the first time com- 
mitted a will to writing. As something 
influenced my father to order the sum 
which he bequeathed me to be handed 
to me in ten annual payments, his con- 
duct influences me to treat him in the 
same manner. I desire my executor to 
pay him the above seventeen shillings 
in ten dirterent yearly payments. One 
shilling, eight pence, one farthing and 
a half yearly, the first nine years after 
my death, and the tenth year one shil- 
ling, eight pence, two farthings and a 
half. But should my father die before 
he has received all which I bequeath 
him in this manner, it is my will that 
my executor keep what remains in his 
hands of the seventeen shillings at the 
time of my father's death, for his own 
proper use and benefit. This is all the 
money which I can conscientiously give 
my father, but at the same time I wish 
him riches more durable, more inestim- 
ably valuable than gold. I wish him 
that precious light of Christ which once 
partly illumined his now (in my opin- 



254 



REMDaSCENCES 



ion) benighted unclerstaAcling. I wish 
him, and was it in my power, I would 
bequeath him such a portion of the 
blood of the meek and lowly Redeem- 
er, as would wash him from all sin, en- 
able him to face me at the bar of the 
righteous judge at the great day, and 
rescue him from those torments which 
the abuse which I have received from 
him so amply and so eternally deserves. 
My mamma having used me as a son, I 
should 1)6 glad to leave all the., rest of 
my property to her, if it was not nearly 
the same thing as leaving it to my fath- 
er and brothers ; but her interest is so 
nearly connected with theirs, and the 
good which I have received from her 
has been so many hundred times coun- 
terbalanced by the evil treatment which 
I have received from them, that I can- 
not conscientiously reward her kind- 
ness any farther than by giving her a 
share in common with the rest of the 
ladies mentioned in this will. 

It is my will that my executor, soon 
after my decease, convert all my real 
and personal estate into ready money. 
That he shall collect what happens to 
be due me, and sell all my property, 
of whatever kind it happens to be, b^" 
public auction or private sale, one or 
both, as he shall think proper ; and that 
after deducting the aforesaid legacy of 
seventeen shillings, paying all my just 
debts, and taking pay for his own time, 
trouljle and expense, and what time, 
trouble and expense he shall then ex- 
pect to be incumbered with as executor 
to this my last will and testament. After 
doing this I say, it is my will that he 
soon after equally divide all the remain- 
ing part of my money among the fol- 
lowing amiable ladies, as many of them 
I mean as happen at that time to l)e 
alive, viz : My mamma, Miss Anna 



Bayley, the two oldest daughters that 
are not now married, of Capt. Jonathan 
Poor, Misses Judea Plummer and Han- 
nah Plummer, daughters of Mr. Jere- 
miah Plummer ; Misses Else Adams, 
Rhoda Plummer, Rebekah Noyes, Mar- 
garet Robinson, Mary Hook, Charlotte 
lisle}', Jemima Knight, Hannah Adams, 
daughter of the late Mr. Richard Ad- 
ams deceased, Ruth Short, daughter of 
Mr. James Short jr., Eunice Pearson, 
]Mary Xoyes, and the verj' amiable Sa- 
rah Little, daughter of Mr. Richard 
Little , the transcendentl}* amiable 
Misses Else Tucker, Mary Tucker, 
Elizabeth Tucker, Charlotte Tucker, 
Clarissa Tucker, Catharine Tucker and 
Hannah Tracj' ; the handsome Mrs. 
Mar}' Noyes, widow of the late Capt. 
John Noyes deceased, and the bloom- 
ing widow Huldah No3'es the consort 
of Mr. William Stickney ; the consort 
of Mr. John Holland, and the consort 
of Mr. George Adams of Newbury- in 
the Commonwealth aforesaid ; Mrs. Ju- 
dea Kent and Mrs. Elizabeth Pike, 
spotless widows ; the transcendently 
lovely JNIrs. L3dia St. Barb, Abigail 
Cutler, Hannah Boardman, Sarah Wig- 
giesworth and Katherine Wigglesworth ; 
the eminently amiable Misses Mar}" 
Barber. Elizabeth Greenleaf, daughter 
of Mr. Abner Greenleaf; Lucy Lunt, 
Sarah Smith, Catharine Murray, EUza- 
beth Ingalls, Maria Ingalls, Mary 
Moulton, Mary Sweat, Eunice Sawyer, 
Abigail Boardman, Sarah Couch, Anna 
Couch, Anna Hodge, Isabella Thomp- 
son, Lydia Thompson, Hannah Noyes, 
Jane Noyes, Sarah Alexander, Mary 
Alexander, ]\Iary Moody, Sarah JMoody, 
daughters of ]\Ir. Benjamin Moody of 
Newburyport, in the Commonwealth 
aforesaid ; Mrs. Eleanor AVeeks of 
Candia in Chester, and Miss Elizabeth 



OF A NOITAGEN'AillAJN^. 



255 



Pliimer of Exeter, in the state of New 
Hampshire. 

I meant to write the aforesaid list of 
names for certain reasons, without any 
epithets denoting the qualities of the 
ladies, but it is very difficult for me to 
speak about such heavenly lassies with- 
out these epithets, and I doubt whether 
even the pope or his nuncio, if he knew 
them as well as I do, could go through 
the task which I nieaut to perform. 
HadI allowed free scope to my inclina- 
tion I should have added a shining ep- 
ithet to each of the respected names, 
nor should I then have done more than 
each of the lovely ladies deserve from 
my pen. I am sensible that the total 
sum of my fortune is but trifling, but I 
hope to make a considerable addition 
to it, and should I die without being 
married, I mean that the aforesaid 
ladies shall have all that I leave 
after seventeen shillings are deducted 
from it, be it more or less. They saw 
me afflicted and tormented by a man 
from whom I might naturally expect 
better usage ; and while I believe this 
man was laboring to destroy my char- 
acter and retard my fortune, with en- 
mit}' more abusive than death, more 
cruel than the grave ; when I was 
warmly contending with poverty, rags 
and wretchedness, I received from these 
ladies such friendly treatment as ren- 
dered my low estate not oul}' tolerable 
but in some measure happy, while some 
less virtuous ladies seemed to rejoice 
at my misfortune, and denied me the 
common civilities of life, even the favor 
of walking the ground with them. 
The above named ladies not onl}" 
f;iiled to imitate them in these respects, 
but gave me reason to think that the}" 
wished to see me in better circumstan- 
ces. The value of the civihties which 



I have - received from them is greatl}^ 
enhanced when I consider the immense 
wisdom and angelic beauty of a great 
part, and the captivating amiableness 
of the whole number. Considering 
these things, I know no bounds that I 
ought to set to my gratitude, love and 
esteem. Had I ten millions of dollars 
to dispose of more than I have, I would 
freely will it all to them. I wish them 
the most consummate earthly felicity, 
and was it in my power to insure them 
seats in paradise, I should not eat nor 
drink with half the pleasure that I 
should take in conveying to them the 
most delightful mansions in those 
realms of bliss. I think it apparent 
from Scripture that departed souls re- 
tain a remembrance of the friendly deeds 
of their benefactors in this world, and 
I confess that I am not without hopes 
of being serviceable to those lovely 
nymphs in the regions which we shall 
inhabit beyond the grave ; even after 
ten million times ten million years have 
rolled away, I hope to give them fresh 
marks of nw present unfeigned and 
boundless regard. 

I make, constitute, ordain and ap- 
point Mr. Ednmnd Knight of this town, 
sole executor to this my last will and 
testament, hereby renouncing, disallow- 
ing and disannulling all former wills, 
testaments, executors, legacies or be- 
quests by me in whatever manner 
named, willed bequeathed, hereby rati- 
fying and confirming this and this only 
to be my last will and testament. In 
testimony whereof I have hereunto set 
my hand and seal." 

Dexter owned a farm in Chester, and 
consequently styled v himself Earl of 
Chester. He erected handsome build- 
ing on this estate, and these were deco- 
rated with several images, which were 



256 



REMEN^ISCENCES 



a wondei' in that region for a long time. 

The poet kiureate's description of his 

lordship and the Dexter mansion ran in 

this wise : 

"Lord Dexter was a man of fame, 
And celebrated was liis name. 
His house was white, 
And trimmed with green, 
And on the top an eagle seen. 

Lord Dexter, like King Solomon, 
Hath gold and silver by the ton ; 
And bells to churches he has given 
To worship the great King of Heaven, 

Two lions stand to guard the door, 
With mouths wide open to devour 
Ail enemies who dare oppose 
Lord Dexter or his shady groves. 

The images around him stand. 
For they were made at his command ; 
Looking to see Lord Dexter come, 
With fixed eyes they see him home." 

Dexter gave the Harris street church 
$333.33 to purchase a bell, and a simi- 
lar sum was presented to St. Paul's so- 
ciety. He evinced a praiseworthy lib- 
erality in aiding any enterprise that 
would benefit the town, taking over a 
hundred shares in the Essex Merrimac 
bridge. On the Fourth of July follow- 
ing its completion he delivered an ora- 
tion there, which, says the Essex Jour- 
nal, "For elegance of st3'le, propriet}' 
of speech, and force of argument was 
truly Ciceronian ! !" 

Lord Timothy also greatly improved 
the roads ai'ound his mansion. His of- 
fer to pave High street, and to build a 
brick market house, if the}^ might bear 
his name the town rejected ; but the 
two thousand dollars he bequeathed in 
his will, "the interest of which he di- 
rected the overseers of tjie poor annu- 
alh' to distribute to such of the poor of 
the town as are the most necessitous, 
who are not in the workhouse," was ac- 
cepted and acknowledged with gratitude 



and thankfulness." Determined to rank 
amongst those whose names never die, 
Dexter wrote a book entitled "A Pickle 
for the Knowing'Ones." A sufficiently 
original production to obtain its author's 
aim. Punctuation was omitted till the 
last page, which was closely covered 
with the various marks, the readers be- 
ing directed "to pepper and salt it as 
they pleased." 

Dexter died in 1806 and his house 
was rented for a tavern. The widow 
of his only son, Samuel, and his only 
daughter, Mrs. Bishop, boarding with 
the landlord's famil}'. As the images 
deca3'ed they were removed, but the 
three presidents remained over the front 
door for man}' years. As the tomb in 
the garden was near the house, it did 
not become Lord Timothy's mausole- 
um, he was interred with his wife and 
son on Burying Hill, the garden tomb 
continuing an object of interest to vis- 
itors at the hotel until a comparatively 
recent date. 

The streets of Newburyport, though 
greatl}' improved, were often unprovid- 
ed with gravelled sidewalks. There 
were but few pavements, and those 
principally before some of the larger 
mansions. The bricks were usually 
laid side up, some presenting a zig-zag 
or herring bone pattern. 

Prior to 1800 the town commenced 
to plant shade trees. Lombard}' pop- 
lars were a favorite avenue tree. The 
Boston turnpike had a row on either 
side as far out as "Old Maid's Hall," 
and it was common to see three of 
these stiflf trees before a house, tower- 
ing sentinel like on the edge of the side- 
walk. 

On Merrimac street nearly- opposite 
Broad, is an ancient house which was 
formerl}' a noted inn, known as ' ' Spauld- 



OF A ]N^OI^AGE:PsrAIlIAN^. 



257 



iiig's Tavern." The Stone house, on a 
farm near the Upper Green, Oldtown, 
is another very ancient mansion. This 
farm was first owned b}^ Mr. John 
Spencer, who sold it to Capt. Daniel 
Pierce. Capt. Pierce erected a dwell- 
ing of stone, after the style of an old 
English manor house. This was the 
girlhood home of Martha Pierce, the 
mother of my great grandfather John- 
son. Afterwards the place was owned 
by Mr. Nathaniel Trac}', whose famil}' 
resided there some ^''ears ; it next be- 
came the property of Capt. Offln Board- 
man, who built the wooden wing at the 
upper end of the house, and the L in 
the rear. Capt. Boardman sold the es- 
tate to Mr. John Pettingel, and at the 
time of which I am writing, it was 
known b}^ the name of the Pettingel 
Farm. At one time this house, on ac- 
count of its safety, was the depot for 
the town's powder. One of Mr. 
Pierce's negro slaves, having placed a 
lighted candle in a keg of powder, blew 
out one side of the house, and much 
to her consternation lodged, herself 
amongst the limbs of a large apple tree. 
There are many legends connected with 
this antique dwelling, which, if its walls 
could speak, would many a tale unfold. 
There is a tradition that in the earl}- 
days, the males being absent, an Indian 
who came with evil intent, was forced 
by the females of the family into a chest 
in the cellar, where his earthly career 
soon closed, and that thereafter his 
shade haunted the spot. 

Another ancient family residence is 
situated in the "Farms District," New- 
bury. The place originally belonged to 
John Hull, who died in 1670. At his 
decease it was purchased by John, old- 
est son of Mr. Nicholas Noyes, who 
built the house soon after. The home- 

33 



stead has descended from father to son 
to the sixth generation. John's son 
and grandson were both named Daniel. 
Maj. Samuel Noj'es and his son Samuel 
to Luther, his fourth son. The seventh 
generation are in his famil}', and two of 
the eighth have been born there. The 
house, a substantial edifice, was built 
in a style unusual for a farmhouse in 
those early days. The front hall is 
wainscotted, and a handsome staircase, 
with the elaborately carved balusters 
then fashionable for the first-class man- 
sions, leads to the second stor3^ The 
kitchen fireplace has been reconstructed, 
but when built it was huge even for the 
period ; an ox could easily have been 
roasted whole in its capacious recess. 
This house has been the birthplace of 
several clerg3'men, physicians, and oth- 
er distinguished persons. Dr. Daniel 
Poore's mother was one of the daugh- 
ters of the famil}^ ; her son was named 
for his grandfather, Daniel Noyes. On 
this No^'es farm is located one of the 
most promising of the newly discovered 
Newbury mines. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

In the autumn of 1810 Mrs. Moses 
Colman was taken ill of a slow fever. 
As she would have no one but Sallie to 
nurse her, I remained in Byfield several 
weeks. During this time the house- 
hold were troubled by a series of mja- 
terious and untoward events. Mr. 
Colman missed a ten dollar bill from 
his desk drawer in a remarkable man- 
ner, the hens quitted lading, a cask of 
choice cider that had never been 
tapped was found empty, and Jerry's 



258 



REME^ISCEK^CES 



fine parade horse which was at pasture 
on the farm, presented a low and jaded 
condition. Jeremiah Cohnan and Ua- 
\'id Emer}' had been for some time ofli- 
cers in the troop. At that time Jerry 
was captain and David first lieutenant 
of one of the companies forming the 
regiment of cavalry. "What could 
have happened to Jerry's horse !" His 
father said "he looked sorr}'." At this 
juncture, Charles Field, the colored 
boy brought up in the family, now a 
youth of twent}', evinced great religious 
concern. His state was such that Dr. 
Parish was requested to visit him. The 
keen witted clergyman, after convers- 
ing with Charles, avowed lack of faith 
in his professions. "He had seen his 
mother in such states. It was his opin- 
ion that this show of piet^" was to cover 
some rascality. He had said as much 
to the fellow, and bade him ease his 
soul by confession, and hy making every 
restitution possible." The next da}' to 
my surprise, I discovered the missing 
bank note in iVIrs. Colman's cap box. 
It was immediatel}' ascertained that 
Charles had for weeks been riding the 
parade horse to Newburyport, a series 
of dances having been held in Guinea 
which he had attended. Having hid- 
den his Sundaj' suit in the hay mow, 
after the famil}- had retired he stole out, 
dressing himself in the barn, saddled 
and bridled the horse, which had been 
stealthil}' brought up from pasture in 
the evening, using the military equip- 
ments, then dashed down to Guinea in 
grand st^de, exciting the envy of his 
brother beaux, and the great admira- 
tion of the sable belles. The ten dollar 
bill was taken to exhibit his grandeur 
and that of the family. On moAdng the 
cider cask, preparatory to its being re- 
filled the straws with which its contents 



had been sucked from the bung were 
found with a heap of egg shells, which 
explained the former scarcity of eggs. 
Charles was brought to confess his mis- 
deeds, with man}- professions of sorrow 
and promises of amendment. Such was 
the affection felt for one reared in the 
family from infancy, that he found a 
ready forgiveness. 

A short time after my return from 
By field I was summoned to town. Col. 
Bartlett had at length succumbed to the 
disease that had threatened for many 
years ; he was in a confirmed con- 
sumption, confined to his chamber, and 
most of the time to his bed. 

Four years before, my aunt, who was 
childless, had adopted a little girl, and 
as she was wholly devoted to her hus- 
band, the care of this child and the su- 
perintendence of the house devolved 
upon me. These were sad but Inisy 
days. Mr. Benjamin Hale was acting 
stage agent for Col. Bartlett ; he came 
every morning for orders, and through 
the day there were more or less callers 
concerned for one who was a general 
favorite. During the past year alarms 
of fire had been frequent ; it was evident 
some person of evil intent was plotting 
mischief. The citizens had become 
watchful and solicitous. The stable, 
where the next spring the fire com- 
menced, had been set on fire two or 
three times, but the flames had been ex- 
tinguished without an alarm. David 
Emery prevented one conflagration with 
a bushel measure of water ; he had led 
his horse to Mr. George's shop, and 
was waiting for the men to come from 
dinner to shoe him. The street was 
quiet. David tied his horse and sat 
down to wait ; at that instant he descried 
smoke issuing from the window of the 
stable opposite. Springing up, he caught 



OE A XONAGEN'ARIAIN'. 



259 



a bushel measure that stood by the 
pump, and filling it ran to the loft. 
The chamber was empty with the excep- 
tion of one corner, where a heap of the 
hay chaff had been scraped together 
which was burning briskly. Mr. Em- 
er}' dashed on the water in the measure, 
which sufficed to quench the flames. 

In February the incendiary was more 
successful. One evening in that month , 
Mr. Gilman White's crockery store on 
State street was burned. About nine 
o'clock the bells gave the alarm. I ran 
to the front door to ascertain the loca- 
tion of the fire. As the latch was lift- 
ed I was confronted by David Emery ; 
he bore one child in his arms and held 
another by the hand. "Here, Sally," 
he hnrriedlj'' exclaimed, giving me the 
infant, "these are Ann and Charles 
Stetson. Gilman White's store is 
ablaze, and Mrs. Stetson has gone to 
Topsfleld. Prince has sent the chil- 
dren to you." I took them into the 
sitting-room, while Mr. Emery hurried 
away. Little Charles did not wake ; 
the girl brought Eliza Bartlett's cradle, 
at which that 3'oung miss, wakened b}' 
the hubbub, made a great ado ; but I 
managed to la}' the infant down still 
sleeping. Having silenced Eliza, I 
placed Ann Stetson, a quiet, pleasant 
child, in my bed. The fire was con- 
fined to Mr. White's store. Soon after 
midnight Mr. Stetson came and took 
Charles home, but Ann remained till 
her mother's return. 

The third of Ma}-, the first circus that 
ever visited Newburyport came mto 
town ; an Italian troop, Messrs. Caye- 
tano & Co. A board pavilion was 
erected in an unoccupied lot between 
Pleasant and Harris streets ; this was 
furnished with seats in the pit, which 
surrounded the ring ; above was a gal- 



lery, with boxes comprising the dress 
circle. There was a stand for musi- 
cians. The exhibitions were on Mon- 
day, Wednesday and Frida}^ afternoons ; 
the doors opened at half-past three ; the 
performance commenced at half-past 
four. Tickets to the boxes were one 
dollar ; to the pit fifty cents ; children 
under ten 3'ears of age half price. This 
was a most respectable and fine looking 
company, their horses were splendid 
animals, all the appurtenances in the 
best stj'le. The performance com- 
menced by the "Grand Military Man- 
oeuvres by Eight Riders." As the com- 
pany furnished but six, upon their ar- 
rival at the Wolfe Tavern they applied 
to Mr. Stetson to fill the cortege. He 
referred Cayetano to Samuel Shaw and 
David Emer}' , as two of the best mili- 
tary riders in the place. These gentle- 
men hesitated respecting joining such a 
show, but b}' the solicitation of friends 
their scruples were overruled. The 
matter was kept secret ; only a select 
few knew of their intention, and the 
uniform would prove a perfect disguise. 
Col. Bartlett was so feeble, I hesitated 
with regard to accepting Mr. Emery's 
invitation to the ch-cus, but m}' uncle 
insisted upon my going, "he was curi- 
ous to hear al)Out it, wished he could 
see Sam and David ride, he knew they 
could sit their horses with the best of 
them." My plans came near being re- 
versed, through the conversation of a 
band of callers on the morning prior to 
the Wednesda}' afternoon performance, 
which I had engaged to attend. Little 
suspecting that I had any special inter- 
est in the play, these pious women in- 
voked the wrath of Heaven, and its 
most awful judgments upon the com- 
pany and all who should patronize 
them. "A mean, low set of foreigners, 



260 



REMINISCENCES 



their presence was a disgrace to the 
town ; the\' wondered the selectmen 
should grant them a permit. No one 
of the least respectabilit}- would think 
of showing themselves in such a place 
as this circus." Abashed, I reported 
to Uncle Bartlett. He declared the 
talk all nonsense, and bade me go. 
Finding that my Uncle Peabod}' and 
Sophronia were going and that most 
of the elite had purchased tickets, I ven- 
tured to dress for the occasion. Mr. 
Emery escorted me to a private en- 
trance on Harris street, where we joined 
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. The gentlemen 
having conducted us to a box, went to 
don their uniform. We were soon 
joined by General Peabody and his 
daughter, and Dr. Prescott and his 
daughters. Col. Greenleaf occupied 
the next box. I soon espied Mr Mo- 
ses Colman and his son Jerry in the pit, 
and as seat after seat and box after 
box filled with the wisdom, wit, beauty 
and fashion of the town and vicinity, I 
leaned back in my seat, satisfied with 
my compau}-, and glad that to please 
my uncle and David I had not been 
over scrupulous. 

This was prior to the formation of 
brass bands. The music consisted of 
some half dozen performers on the bu- 
gle, clarionet, bass-viol and violin. 
Various airs had been plaj'ecl while the 
audience were gathering. As the mo- 
ment arrived for the performance to 
commence, at a bugle call, in dashed 
the eight horsemen, in a showy uni- 
form in single file ; the}' rushed around 
the ring, then followed a series of splen- 
did feats of horsemanship and military 
t^-ctics. 1 do not think 1 should have 
known either Mr. Shaw or Mr. Emery 
had they not given a little private sig- 
nal. The}' did themselves great credit. 



rode better even than the trained eques- 
trians. Cayetano was highl}' delighted, 
and Avas most profuse in his encomiums 
and compliments. The military exer- 
cise over, Master Tatnal performed 
several gymnastic feats. He was fol- 
lowed by Master Duffee, a negro lad, 
who drew down the house by feats of 
agility, leaping over a whip and hoop. 
Mr. Codet signalized himself in feats of 
horsemanship. Mr. Menial, the clown, 
amused the audience b}' buffoonery and 
horsemanship. Mr. Cayetano execut- 
ed on two horses the laughable farce of 
the "Fish woman, or the Metamorpho- 
sis." With a foot on each horse he rode 
forAvard, habited as an immensely fat 
fishwoman, in a huge bonnet and un- 
couth garments. Riding rapidly round 
the ring he divested himself of this and 
several other suits, ending in making 
his final bow as an elegant cavalier. 
The 3'oung African next performed feats 
of horsemanship and vaulting, danced a 
hornpipe, and other figures, ending b}' 
dashing round the ring, standing on 
the tips of his toes. The horse, Oce- 
let, posted himself in various attitudes, 
danced and took a collation with the 
clown. Mr. Caj'etano performed the 
Candian Peasant, and feats of horse- 
manship with hoops, hat and glove, ter- 
minating by the leap of the four rib- 
bons separated and together. Mr. 
Cayetano performed the pyramid, young 
DuiTee on his shoulders as "Flying 
Mercury." Then came the Trampoleon 
exercise by Messrs. Menial, Codet, and 
the 3'oung African ; somersets over 
men's heads and a leap over six horses. 
The next scene was the Pedestal ; the 
horse of knowledge posted in different 
attitudes. The performances conclud- 
ed with the Taylor riding to Water- 
ford upon the une(iualled horse Zebra, 



OP A NOlSTAGElSrAKIAISr. 



261 



b}^ Mr. Menial, the clown. This was a 
most laughable farce, Zebra being a 
Jack trained to the part. This elicited 
a storm of applause, and the play ended 
with cheer after cheer. The circus 
gave universal satisfaction, and from 
Newbur^-port the}- went to Exeter, in- 
tending to make an Eastern toiu*. 



/ 



CHAPTER L. 

"There is a destiny that shapes our ends, 

Rough iiew them as we will." 

The memorable Fridaj' evening, the 
thirty-first of May, 1811, the sun set in 
unclouded splendor, gilding the church 
spires, and gleaming upon tree tops, 
window panes, and the masts of the 
little fleet anchored at the wharves up 
and down the river. For the last time 
its rays illumined the ancient town ; 
when it sank behind the western heights 
it bade a final adieu to many an antique 
landmark and to many a goodh' heri- 
tage. The last lingering gleam died 
away from the old "port," which 
henceforth would only be known in tra- 
dition and song. For the last time 
bus}- feet trod those long lines of loft}' 
warehouses ; carts and draj's rattled up 
and down the wharves ; the evening 
stage coaches dashed up to the Old 
Wolfe tavern ; merchant and artisan 
turned the ke3% and wended their way 
homeward ; the tea urn steamed on the 
luxurious board in stateh' mansions, 
and the more frugal supper was served 
in the dwellings of the mechanic and la- 
borer. Little did the}' reck tliat ere 
another da}' should dawn, each would 
lie reduced to a perfect equalit}', alike 
homeless and penniless. That the old 
town of the primeval settlers and of 



Revolutionary fame would have passed 
into oblivion, that one period had end- 
ed, that henceforth a new town was to 
arise, a new order of things to be insti- 
tuted, new customs and business to be 
established, new men and measures to 
be represented ; but the old town of 
Newburyport, with its commerce, its 
prestige and aristocratic splendor had 
gone fore vermo re . 

As home duties claimed my presence 
I returned to "Crane Neck" the last 
week in May. The night of the thirty- 
first, the family, with the exception of 
my_ mother and myself, retired at nine 
o'clock. We were sitting by the smould- 
ering fire, sadly talking over my winter's 
experience, when a knock came upon 
the back door. Surprised, I rose, and 
drawing aside the fastening, opened it 
upon William Thurrell, who hastily ex- 
claimed, "Salhe, Newburyport is on 
fire." Repeating his words to mother, 
I ran to the eastern end of the house, 
and throwing open the door, I stood 
transfixed. It was then only half-past 
nine, audit was so light that at that dis- 
tance I could have read fine print. 

The family and neighborhood were 
aroused ; the young men saddled their 
horses or harnessed teams, and hurried 
to town. The others watched and 
moaned in a helpless anguish nearly bor- 
dering on despair. The house soon be- 
came thronged. People came from 
miles back, to the hill. We had a good 
glass, and from the range of the Pleas- 
ant street church steeple, which we mo- 
mentarily expected to see enveloped in 
flames, saw that the fire was still below 
the residences of Gen. Peabody and 
Col. Bartlett, but we knew that much 
of their property must be burned, with 
that of other relatives and friends. Re- 
calling David Emery's activity, courage, 



262 



REMLNISCENCES 



and self-forgetfalness , I knew that he 
would rush into the thickest of the 
fight waged against the devouring ele- 
ment, and I could not but feel anxious 
for his safety. It was a fearful, a ter- 
rible night. If I could have been on 
the spot, could have but a helping hand ! 
— but to be thus compelled to gaze in 
inactivity was horrible. All night long 
the flames swdled and sittged, with a 
roar like that of the distant sea. 
Towards morning came the sound of 
explosions, when great pillars of smoke, 
flame and sparks, would spring up 
towards the sky. By sunrise the .fire 
had become subdued ; but a dense 
smoke veiled all the intervening space, 
and the sun came up the heavens red 
and lowery, its rays obsciu'ed b}' the 
dense atmosphere. 

Some of the neighbors came home in 
the morning, but m^' uncle, Ben Little, 
and m}' brother James remained through 
the day. It was evening ere we learned 
the full extent of the great fire. This 
conflagration commenced soon after the 
ringing of the nine o'clock bell, in the 
unoccupied stable in Mechanics' Kow, 
Inn street, in which the former incen- 
diary attempts had been made. 

It was a pleasant moonlight evening, 
and probably over a hundred persons 
were walking the streets in the vicinity. 
Suddenl}' a tall spire of flame shot up 
into the sky, and in an instant the 
whole neigiiborhood was aglow. No 
rain had fallen for several weeks ; a 
brisk westerly wind was bloAving, which 
threw the flames directh' upon some of 
the principal stores. The alarms of fire 
had of late been so frequent that the 
fire department were unusually efficient. 
There were three or four as good hand 
engines as could be purchased, worked 
by willing and sturdy hands, and sev- 



eral fire companies in perfect organiza- 
tion, each member of which was sup- 
plied with two leathern buckets, and a 
knapsack containing two canvas bags, 
of the capaeit}' of four bushels each, for 
the removal of clothing and bedding. 
The buckets were painted green, with 
the owner's name inscribed within a gilt 
scroll on the side ; the name was also 
stamped upon the knapsack and bags. 
The rules of these societies required the 
apparatus to be hung in the front entry 
of the owner's residence, and once a 
month members were detailed to exam- 
ine into their efficiency. 

In addition wardens were appointed, 
who, armed with long poles, ordered 
and directed at afire. There were also 
ladders placed at frequent intervals 
about the town, hung upon a fence or 
building, protected from the weather b}' 
a board nailed slant-wise above it. The 
bells rang the alarm, but before a stream 
of water could be brought the stable was 
enveloped in flames, which in an incred- 
ibly short time consumed the two un- 
improved stables, the tavern and gro- 
cery- of Joseph Jackman, Mr. Nathan 
Follansl)ee's grocery store, and a dwell- 
ing house belonging to Mr. Matthew 
Perkins on Inn street. Notwithstand- 
ing the fire department in full ranks 
worked with the energy of twice their 
force, aided by ever}' exertion of the 
citizens, the flames could not be sub- 
dued, but soon swept down to the mar- 
ket, thence to State street. Ever}' one 
rushed to the rescue ; long lines were 
formed to pass water ; the high bred 
lady stood side b}^ side with her ser- 
vants, and humbler neighbors ; all dis- 
tinction of cast, age or sex, was lost in 
this vortex of misery and terror. As- 
sistance came from Newbury, Ames- 
bury, Salisbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Dan- 



OF A no:n^age:n^aiiiai^. 



263 



vers, Beverly, Haverhill, Topsfield, 
Bradford, and towns across the ri^-er in 
New Hampshire. Engines were hroiTgh; 
from Salem and some other towns, but 
the flames spread in such various direc- 
tions as to baffle all exertions to subdue 
it. In a few hours it prostrated every 
building on the north side of State 
street, from Pleasant street to Market 
square, and on the opposite side from 
Essex street. It proceeded into Essex 
street on the northeast side to the house 
of Capt. James Kettell, where it was 
checked ; into Middle street as far as 
Fair street, on the northeast side, and 
a few rods there on the southwest side 
into Lil)erty, within one house of Inde- 
pendent, and down Water street as far 
as Hudson's wharf, sweeping off every 
building within the circle. The whole 
of Centre street was laid in ashes, and 
the whole row of buildings in Mer- 
chants' Row on Ferr}' wharf ; all the 
stores on the wharves lietwcon the mar- 
ket and Marquand's wharf, including 
the latter. This cleared about sixteen 
and a half acres, in the most compact 
and wealthiest part of the town. Nearh^ 
two hundred and fifty buildings were 
burnt, most of which were stores and 
dwelling houses. Upwards of ninety 
families were rendered homeless ; near- 
ly every dry goods store was burned, 
four printing offices — the whole num- 
ber, including the Herald otBce, the cus- 
tom house, the surveyor's office, the 
post office, two insurance offices — the 
Union and Phenix, the Baptist meeting- 
house, four attorneys' offices, four book 
stores, the loss in one of which was 
$30,000, and also the town library. 

Blunt's Building and Phenix Building 
for a time presented a barrier to the 
destructive element, and hopes were 
entertained that they would be saved, 



but b}^ a sudden change in the wind the 
flames were carried directly upon these 
immense piles. State street at this 
time presented a spectacle most terribl}^ 
sublime, the flames meeting in an arch 
across it. The wind increased in 
strength, and it was seen that the new 
brick Baptist meeting-house on Liberty 
street was doomed. This was full of 
goods and furniture, deposited there as 
a place of undoubted safety- at the com- 
mencement of the fire. 

At two o'clock the fire raged in every 
direction. The authorities commenced 
to blow up and tear down the buildings 
in its path. About four o'clock the 
danger diminished, and at six the fire 
had in a great degree spent its fury. 

The scene during the night was most 
terrible. The moon graduall}' became 
obscured and at length disappeared in 
the thick cloud of smoke which shroud- 
ed the atmosphere. The glare of light 
was intense, and the heat that of a sul- 
try summer noon. The streets were 
thronged with those whose dwellings 
were consumed, conveying the I'emains 
of their property to places of safety. 
Every kind of a vehicle was pressed into 
this service, from a hand barrow to a 
stage coach. 

"The incessant crash of falling build- 
ings, the roaring of chimneys like dis- 
tant thunder, the flames ascending in 
ciuiing volumes from a vast extent of 
ruins, the air filled with a shower of 
fire, and the feathered throng fluttering 
over their wonted retreats, and drop- 
ping into the flames, the lowing of the 
cows, and the confused noise of exer- 
tion and distress, unite,d to impress the 
mind with the most awful sensations." 

I cop3^ the description of Elder John 
Peak, the pastor of the Baptist society, 
whose church and dwelling with part of 



264 



EEMTNTSCENCES 



his furniture and clothing were bruned. 
He writes, "I saw the roof of our meet- 
ing-house tumbling in, leaving the brick 
walls principall}' standing. But what 
an awful sight ! Bright flames ascend- 
ing to a great height ; explosions of 
powder, spirits, etc. ; vast columns of 
cinders and flames ascending in quick 
succession to the clouds ; a dense smoke 
ascending from the burning of tar, 
rosin, pitch, etc., formed thick clouds 
which spread over all in awful majest}'. 
The roaring of the flames, accompanied 
with wind, the sound of the trumpets 
and voices of the firemen, the crash of 
buildings, the cry of the sufferers for 
help to secure their goods, and the in- 
creasing progress of the conflagration, 
altogether, was the most appalling scene 
I ever witnessed." 

Much household furniture and cloth- 
1/ ing was burned that might have been 
saved at the commencement of the fire, 
had this not have been at such a dis- 
tance that many whose houses were de- 
stroyed never suspected danger till too 
late ; so swift was the destruction, and 
so* meagre the means of transportation, 
that loss was unavoidable. 

On Market gquare, Mr. Edward 
Rand's store was burned, but his house 
was saved. Perkins & Dean had two 
stores, one a fire-proof building, which 
was principally preserved ; the remain- 
der of the upper side of the square was 
swept clean. Mr. Abner Wood and 
Maj. Joshua Greenleaf lost two large 
ship chandlery stores, and three brick 
stores on Water street. Maj. Green- 
leaf's dwelling house, barn, smith}', etc. , 
on Tabert}' street, were also consumed. 
On Ferr}^ wharf was a block of lofty 
buildings called Merchants' Row ; these 
were occupied by John Wood and oth- 
ers, warehouses ; Samuel Brown, ship 



chandlery ; A. & E. Wheelright, three 
stores, groceries, iron, etc ; J acob Stone, 
groceries ; Zebedee Cook, groceries ; 
Robert Dodge, flour ; Joseph Stanwood, 
jr., sail loft ; Thomas Pritchard, rigging 
loft. 

On Boardman's wharf, OflSn Board- 
man lost six stores and warehouses ; 
these were occupied b}- Amos Toppan, 
Benjamin G. Boardman and John Ord- 
ione. At this wharf a schooner was 
burned to the water's edge. 

On Atwood's wharf, Margaret At- 
wood owned three warehouses ; these 
were occupied by John Wood and B. 
G. Sweetser. 

On Carter's wharf,W. Boardman lost 
one warehouse, Enoch C. Toppan a 
shop, block maker, Nathaniel Carter a 
house and barn. 

On Marquand's wharf, Joseph Mar- 
quand had six warehouses, a rigging 
loft, counting-room, etc. On Water 
street, at the head of the wharf, two 
dwelling houses and three stores ; all of 
these were burned, including his ele- 
gant residence, one of the splendid 
mansions of the town. At this wharf 
the brig Washington lost its mainmast, 
rigging, etc. 

On O'Brien's wharf, Capt. Joseph 
O'Brien lost one store, and his dwelling 
house at the head of the wharf, with 
another store on Water street. 

On Jackson's wharf, Mr. Abraham 
Jackson lost two warehouses, three 
stores, and a house on Water street. 

On Jewett's wharf, Mr. Jonathan 
Gage lost one warehouse. The south 
side of Cornhill, from Charter to Essex 
street, comprising the Newburj'port 
bank and the Peabody building, with 
the drj' goods stores of James Caldwell, 
S. Davis, David Peabody & Co., and 
Prescott Spaulding, were not burned ; 



OF A XOKAGENAHIAN. 



265 



these were the onl}^ dry goods stores on 
State street that were saved. George 
Peabody at that time was a clerk inthe 
store of James Kimball, on Market 
square, which was burned. 



CHAPTER LI. 

On the evening preceding the fire, 
Frank Somerby, Ben. Tappan and Da- 
vid Emerj" had been walking in the mall. 
When the nine o'clock bell rung the}' 
turned homeward ; they had reached the 
head of State street when that tall spire 
of flame darted skyward. Shouting 
"Fire," the trio ran down the street. 
"Head for my store," said Mr. Somer- 
Dy, as Mr. P^merv turned into Charter 
street to get his bags and buckets. Da- 
vid still boarded with his brother, and 
both belonged to the "Washington Fire 
Association." Tossing his watch and 
pocketbook into the hands of Margaret 
Lakeman, who resided inthe family, he 
seized his Are apparatus and ran to Mr. 
Somerby's store, from whence he pro- 
ceeded to Wolfe Tavern ; after that had 
been cleared, he assisted in the removal 
of the bedding in the rooms occupied 
by Mr. Stetson, in the Phenix building. 
From that time he worked through the 
night, going from house to house as 
they became endangered, assisting the 
ladies to pack their valuables — a task 
in which he was peculiarly efficient. 
Within doors most of the time, too busy 
to look or think, at dawn he found him- 
self on the farther confines of the fire ; 
with amazement he gazed around — 
could it be da^'break ? he thought it not 
later than twelve o'clock ; could it be 
possible ? For the first time he realized 
the extent of the terrible conflagration ; 



for the first time thought of his own 
propert}', which characteristically had 
never entered his mind in his anxiety 
for others. Mr. Colman was equally 
oblivious, in aiding the members of his 
fire company and packing his household 
goods, which, as the fire surged up 
State street, were put in readiness for 
removal. 

Being so near the river, the shambles, 
through the exertion of Capt. Israel 
Young, were saved ; but a stable on 
I\Iarket square, owned by Dr. Smith of 
Mt. Rural, which Mr. Emery occupied, 
was burned ; his loss however, was 
small, as his wagon was at the slaugh- 
ter house on the turnpike, and his horse 
at pasture there. 

A year previous, through commer- 
cial disaster and the dullness in trade 
engendered by the embargo. Gen. Pea- 
body had been obliged to suspend busi- 
ness ; his affairs were soon satisfacto- 
rily adjusted, and he commenced the 
erection of a new brick store on Market 
square ; this building was just complet- 
ed, and a fine stock of new goods had 
been put in that last week in May, in the 
expectation of opening to the public on 
the first of Jime. 

On the afternoon of the 3 1st of May, 
Sophronia Peabody and her cousin Da- 
vid had taken tea at Deacon Osgood's, 
in West Newbury ; they were on the 
summit of Pipestave Hill, on their way 
home, when that spire of fire shot into 
the sky. Mr. Peabody put his horse to 
a run ; in breathless suspense they 
dashed to town, in dismay and terror 
watching the swift progress of the 
flames. As the couple drove into the 
yard of the State street mansion, David 
threw the reins to a boy who came to 
stable the horse, while he and Sophro- 
nia hastened to the store. Miss Pea- 
34 



266 



REMLN'ISCEXCES 



bod}' secured some rich lace, and a few 
other light but valuable articles, which 
she took home ; these were the ouh" 
goods in the whole of that large, new 
stock which escaped the flames ; the rest 
unfortuuatelj- were taken to the Baptist 
meetinghouse, which later in the night 
was consumed with its contents. In 
addition, the General lost three other 
stores on Market square, and three on 
State street, the whole of ''Peabudy's 
Corner," and two on the opposite side 
of State street, which w'ere owned in 
compan}' wdth Mr. David Wood ; one 
of these Avas occupied by Jonathan 
Woodman, jr.. silversmith; the other 
was NcAvman's barber's shop. 

By the change in the wind that took 
the Fhenix and Blunt buildings, the up- 
per part of State street became endan- 
gered ; for a time fears were entertained 
respecting my uncle's elegant residence. 
Water was carried to the roof, the plate 
and much of the clothing was packed ; 
but another shift of the wind averted all 
danger. 

The day after the fire Col. Bartlett 
was borne on a l)ed to the residence of 
his brother-in-laM\ Gen. Peabody, and 
Mr. Stetson took Col. Bartlett's house 
for a hotel. The brick addition was 
built, and this continued to be the loca- 
tion of the "Eastern Stage House" for 
about two years. The Tuesday suc- 
ceeding the fire I went to town ; I found 
Col. Bartlett much more comfortable 
and cheerful than I had dared to hope ; 
his good judgment and business tact 
were never more conspicuous than in a 
short consultation held with Gen. Pea- 
body while I was in his room. The 
General, with reason, appeared nearly 
crushed. Seeing that her father had 
become somewhat inspirited by his rel- 
atives' firmness, Sophronia proposed 



that we should go out to view the ruins. 
Entering Market square from State 
street, we paused a moment on the site 
of that new store which had been the 
goal of so much promise, then proceed- 
ed down Water street, taking a circuit 
of the whole area. In man}- places 
heaps of rubbish w' ere smouldering in 
the cellars. It was indescribably sad to 
see the large space covered with charred 
debris and half- fallen chimneys ; those 
belonging to dwelling houses were most- 
ly standing to above the ovens. The 
sight of these domestic appurtenances 
brought such a vivid picture of house- 
hold desolation that I turned hastily 
away and left the scene. 

As man}' strangers were in town, 
drawn thither bj^ the double motive of 
viewing the ruins and doing spring 
shopping, the dr}- goods stores in the 
Peabody building presented quite a 
lively aspect. At David I'eabody's 
store we met his fiancee, Miss Sally 
Caldwell, the daughter of Mr. William 
Caldwell. On passing Dr. Andrews' 
residence Miss Margaret came to the 
door ; she was followed by her little sis- 
ter Hannah, carefulh' holding a basket 
and box, in which were packed her 
dolls, playthings and picture books. 
Mrs. Andrews had kept her younger 
children asleep during the whole of the 
night of the fire ; this gave Miss Han- 
nah great ofijeuce ; "her things might 
have been all burned up ;" thencefor- 
ward, through the summer^ they were 
kept in readiness for a removal at a mo- 
ment's notice. There is but one step 
from the sublime to the ridiculous, • 
man}' ludicrous incidents occurred at 
the fire. Little Eliza Bartlett, aw-ak- 
ened by the noise and glare, clamorous- 
ly demanded her best wrought muslin 
dress, thinking that it was some grand 



OP A NONAGEIS^ARIAIN^. 



267 



gala illumination ; and a lady carefull}' 
conveyed what she supposed to be 
choice plate, a long distance, finding to 
hei* dismay upon arriving at her des- 
tination, that her burthen consisted of 
two flatirons. 

Tea was announced upon our return ; 
I had not intended to stop, but m^' 
aunts insisted upon this. Their equa- 
nimity and heroism excited both admira- 
tion and wonder ; their nobleness of 
character was fully displa^^ed in this 
time of trial ; without neglect or confu- 
sion every duty was performed in the 
sick room and throughout the house- 
hold. A stranger would never have 
imagined that such a change in the do- 
mestic arrangements had occurred in 
such a brief space of time. 

From the purchase of his house Col. 
Bartlett had rented the lower half ; at 
the time of the fire it was occupied b}' 
Mrs. Prout and Miss Nabb}^, the maid- 
en sister of the late Mr. Front. As 
Mr. Stetson needed the whole house, 
these ladies, with their 3'oung serving- 
maid, Ann Mason, had also become 
boarders in Gen. Peabody's family. 
On my account the meal had been 
served early ; the gentlemen were not 
present, but the circle of ladies did their 
best to sustain a cheerful conversation, 
which was aided by the prattle of the 
children. I could scarcely swallow ; 
and it was with a sigh of relief that I 
turned n\\ horse's head homeward. 
Wishing to relieve ni}- Aunt Bartlett of 
all unnecessary care I took her little 
adopted girl with me. General Pea- 
body's second daughter, Adeline, a 
most lovely child, had been a sufferer 
from hip disease for some months ; she 
came to Crane Neck soon after. I had 
one or both of the little girls with me 
most of the summer. 



On Monday morning, June 3d, at 9 
o'clock the inhabitants^of Newbur^^sort 
assembled to take into consideration the 
state of the sufferers .by the fire, and to 
devise means for their relief. At this 
meeting the following persons were cho- 
sen a committee on behalf of the town 
to solicit that aid of a benevolent pub- 
lic which the distress of a great portion 
of other citizens so forcibl}' claimed, and 
to adopt the necessarj' measures for af- 
fording immediate relief to the desti- 
tute, and to distribute among the suf- 
ferers at their discretion all moneys or 
other property- which might be received : 

Jeremiah Nelson, Isaac Adams, 
Eleazer oJohnson, Jacob Stone, Nicho- 
las Johnson, jr., selectmen; Joseph 
Dana, William Woart, Isaac Stone, 
Nicholas Johnson, Aaron Pardee, Wil- 
liam Bartlet, Moses Biown, William 
Coombs, John Pettingell, Samuel CoflEin, 
Joshua Carter, James Prince, Michael 
Hodge, jr., Benjamin Pierce, William 
Russell, Stephen Howard, Robert Fos- 
ter, Samuel Tenne}^ John Stuart, Sam- 
uel L. Knapp, Daniel A. White, Nich- 
olas Pike, Thomas M. Clark, Joseph 
Williams, William Cross. 

The selectmen of the town were au- 
thorized and appointed to receive all 
moneys and other donations for the use 
of the sufferers ; and Wm. Bartlett, 
Woart, Moses Brown, Benj. Pierce, 
T. M. Clark, Nicholas Johnson, Joseph 
Wilhams, John Pettingell and Isaac 
Adams were appointed to solicit sub- 
scriptions, and receive donations from 
the inhabitants of Newburyport. The 
sufferers in need of immediate relief 
were requested to appl}' at the store of 
Capt. William Russell, Market square, 
where also contributions of provisions 
were gratefully received. 

In a town meeting held on Fridaj^, 



268 



REMINISCEN^CES 



June 7th, it was voted, "that iu future 
no buildings should be erected within 
the limits of the town more than ten 
feet high, unless the same be built of 
brick or stone." From this vote sprang 
the large number of low wooden shops 
called "ten footers," which for a num- 
ber of years disfigured the streets. 

The loth of June was set apart as a 
day of fasting and pra3^er, in conse- 
quence of the heavy calamit}' with which 
the town had been visited. In the fore- 
noon a sermon was delivered in Rev. 
Mr. Dana's meeting-house by Rev. Mr. 
Miltimore of Belleville ; in the after- 
noon the Rev. Dr. Buckminister of 
Portsmouth preached at the Rev. Dr. 
Spring's meeting-house ; in both instan- 
ces there were crowded audiences. 

By the invitation of Rev. John Giles 
and his society", Elder John Peak 
preached in the Harris street church the 
Sunday succeeding the fire. In the 
morning the Baptist clergyman took his 
text from Isaiah 5th, 24th, "Therefore 
as the fire devoureth the stubble, and 
the flame consumeth the chaff, so their 
root shall be as rottenness, and their 
blossom shall go up as dust : because 
the}" have cast away the law of the 
Lord of Hosts, and despised the word 
of the Holy One of Israel." The af- 
ternoon sermon had for its ol»ject 
"Comfort to the afflicted who put their 
trust in the Lord." 

The following Sabbath the Baptist 
society occupied the court house, in 
which they worshipped until the erec- 
tion of the new church. This society 
was peculiarly bereaved b}" the fire. 
In addition to the loss of their meet- 
inghouse, eleven of their pi'incipal mem- 
bers were amongst the greatest suffer- 
ers. Capt. Joseph O'Brien, who had 
been one of tiieir most prominent ben- 



efactors, lost $30,000. At a society 
meeting June 11th, it was voted to ap- 
point the Rev. John Peak an agent, to 
solicit aid towards the erection of a ilew 
house of worship. The clergyman 
made a tour as far south as Philadel- 
phia and Baltimore, visiting most of 
the Baptist societies on his route. Af- 
ter his retui'u he went as far east as 
Ilallowell. This'mission was eminent- 
ly successful, and steps were immedi- 
ately taken to procure the land for a 
new meeting-house ; a committee of 
three was appointed to circulate sub- 
scription papers at the north, south and 
central parts of the town. That for the 
centre received no subscribers ; at the 
south end one individual subscribed fif- 
teen dollars ; at the north end live huu- 
di'ed dollars were subscribed. Conse- 
quently it was decided to place the new 
meeting-house on Congress street. A 
plan for a building fifty feet by forty- 
two, Tvith gallery, was approved, and 
the work commenced in April, 1812. 
The site of the old meeting-house, with 
the basement, bricks etc., were sold for 
the benefit of the original proprietors. 
After the new house had been begun. 
Dr. Bolles' society, of Salem, present- 
ed a subscription amounting to$440.17. 
This church was completed the last of 
July, and with the laud cost less than 
than $4000. "The house was dedicat- 
ed without parade, with fervent suppli- 
cations for the divine blessing on the 
church, congregation, the word which 
should be dispensed tliere, and on their 
kind benefactors." 

The Rev. Dr. Spring also made a 
tour for the purpose of soliciting funds, 
travehng as far south as Virginia. This 
call was met most generously ; Phila- 
delphia, with the aid given to Mr. Peak, 
contributed $3000, and a Moravian so- 



OF A ISrOI^fAGEI^ARIAN. 



269 



ciety in Penns3'lvania added $60 to the 
funds forwarded from that state ; be- 
sides many donations from distant parts 
of the country, the neighboring cities 
and towns were most prompt and lib- 
eral in their contributions ; Boston gave 
$24,315.25; Charlestown sent $1,744. - 
55. Of this $150 was presented by the 
firemen to their brethren in Newbury- 
port ; Salem presented $1000 and con- 
tributions of clothing ; Portsmouth and 
all the smaller towns gave as largely in 
proportion to their means. Those of 
our citizens who were able showed 
great liberalit}- towards their unfortu- 
nate fellow citizens ; provisions, furni- 
ture and clothing were given in large 
quantities from Newburypoi't, New- 
bury, and the other adjoining towns ; 
Mr. William Bartlett presented $3000, 
Mr. Moses Brown $1500, and other 
gentlemen contributed as their means^ 
permitted ; the Shaker families at Can- 
terbury and Enfield sent five waaon 
loads of furniture, bedding, clothing 
and food, which were received with the 
warmest thanks. 

The 1st of June th<^ circus of Messrs. 
Cayetano & Meuiel was in Portsmouth ; 
these gentlemen wrote to Samuel Shaw 
and David Emer}^ that if they would 
come over and ride in the military ex- 
ercise, they would ad^^ertise a benefit 
for the Newburj'port suflerers. This 
proposal was accepted with alacrit}', 
and the proceeds of the exhibition, 
which amounted to sixty dollars, were 
handed to the Newburyport Relief As- 
sociation. Such a noble charity from 
foreigners and strangers was duly ap- 
preciated b}' our townsmen, and it was 
with genuine grief that some two or 
three years after, they received the tid- 
ings of the loss of the whole troop on 



their passage from New Orleans to 
Havana. 

Of the money received, as just a dis- 
tribution as possible was made. No 
one whose remaining property amount- 
ed to the value of five thousand dollars 
received any appropriation. Erom the 
first few days after the fire the burnt 
area in the vicinity of Market square 
and State street presented a most busy 
aspect ; the debris was quickly cleared, 
and the foundations of most of the 
present buildings were laid ; before 
winter many dry goods and grocery 
stores were opened, and by the second 
year the town bore a much handsomer 
appearance than before the fire ; but 
the war with England and other causes 
combined to curtail business, and it was 
years before the traces of the great fire 
were wholl}^ obliterated. 

Col. Bartlett lingered till November. 
For many weeks he laid helpless as an 
infant, and the end came gently ; with- 
out any painful struggle, his transition 
to another world was in perfect keep- 
ing with his calm, genial character. 
Earthl}" cares and duties finished, he 
departed, in the hope of a new and 
blissful hfe in that world "where there 
is no more death." His widow bowed 
in submission, casting her burden upon 
that Sa,vior who alone could give com- 
fort. His relatives, friends, and the 
whole community mourned the loss of 
one, who at the early age of thirty-eight 
had been called from their midst. 

Col. Bartlett was buried under arms, 
and the funeral, which was from Gen. 
Peabody's residence, was largely at- 
tended. Dr. Dana conducted the ser- 
vice, then the military formed in the 
order of escort ; behind the hearse a 
negro attendant led the Colonel's fam- 
ous charger — a splendid white horse ; 



270 



REMEN^ISCENOES 



from his bridle floated bands of crape ; 
the housing was of black ; across the 
saddle depended the luiiform boots, with 
spurs attached, and upon it were laid 
his sword and cap, with its long white 
plume ; next came a long procession of 
gentlemen on foot, and a long line of 
mourners in carriages concluded the 
cortege, which to the solemn beat of 
the muffled drum slowly moved to the 
Old Burying Hill, where dust was ren- 
dered to dust. A vollc}^ having been 
fired over the grave, the musicians 
struck up a lively air, and the remains 
were left in the full hope of a glorious 
immortality. 

The famous white horse became the 
propert}- of Mr. Benjamin Hale, who 
succeeded Col. Bartlett in the stage 
agenc3^ Though obliged to part with 
her favorite, Mrs. Bartlett, through the 
kindness of Mr. Hale, never felt his 
loss, as she had only to name the time 
when a ride was desired, and the horse 
was immediately put at her disposal. 

M}- preparations for marriage were 
nearly complete, but nothing definite 
had been decided upon, when to my 
utter astonishment, one evening in 
March David Emery came with the an- 
nouncement that he had hired the Pills- 
bury place in Belleville, and had come 
to take me down with him in the morn- 
ing to inspect the premises, and assist 
in making farther arrangements. I was 
completely dumbfounded. The l^ills- 
bur^- domain consisted of a farm of 
sixt}' acres, on which was a large, old- 
fashioned house, which for man}' years 
had been a noted tavern for drovers 
and country traders. With the most 
perfect sang froid Mr. Emery stated 
his intention of immediately^ putting up 
a large slaughtering house, and that he 
had already hired Mr. James Carey to 



assist in the butchering business. Mr. 
Carey, his wife and two children were 
to occupy a part of the house. "I was 
expected to become the mistress of a 
public house on a large farm, with an 
extensive butchering establishment at- 
tached !" "Yes, and I could do it." 
P^fflcient help had been secured — a girl 
from Lock's Hotel, who knew every 
"rope in the ship." Lock had succeed- 
ed Coburn, who had been appointed 
deputy sheriff. 

Somewhat encouraged, I began to 
gather ni}' scattered ideas and to take 
a more coherent view of things ; but it 
was after a restless night that I set 
forth with Mr. Emery in the morning. 
The place of our destination had for- 
merly been the homestead of Mr. Ed- 
ward Kawson, to whom at the first set- 
tlement of the township five hundred 
and eighty-one acres of land had been 
granted, which was termed Rawson's 
Newburj' plantation. Mr. Rawson was 
the first town clerk of Newbury-, and 
one of the wealthiest and most influen- 
tial citizens. Afterwards he became 
Secretary of the colon}' of Massachu- 
setts and moved to Dorchester. The 
unfortunate marriage of his j'oungest 
daughter, Miss Rebecca Rawson, to an 
Englishman named Thomas Ramse}', 
under the assumed name and character 
of Sir Thomas Hale jr., nephew of Lord 
Chief Justice Hale, Whittier has woven 
into his charming tale entitled "INfar- 
o-aret Smith's Journal," and this first 
home of ni}' married life was the scene 
of that romance. 

In 1()51 (O. S) Mr. William Pills- 
bury pui'chased of Mr. Edward Raw- 
son forty acres of land for the sum of 
out! hundred pounds. The deed of this 
purchase is still held by the Pillsbury 
family. The present house was built 



OF A ISrONAGEISrAIlIAJSr. 



271 



in 1700, by Mr. Daniel Pillsbuiy. Orig- 
inally it consisted of the main building ; 
the several additions, which so mate- 
riall}' enhance its picturesque appear- 
ance, have been made as the needs of 
the occupant required. At this time 
the estate had passed through three 
generations to the heirs of Mr. Joshua 
Pillsbury, who a few years previous liad 
purchased a farm in Boscawen, where 
he had recently died. Pilesburgh or 
Pilesborough, now Pillsbury, Essex, 
England, Arms. Per fesse sable and 
azure, on an eagle displayed argent ; 
three griffins' heads, erased of the sec- 
ond. Crest, an Esquire's helmet- 

i O r) . . i 
Motto, Lahdr ammia vincfM-. 

A piercing March wind swept with 
great force across "the plains ;" I was 
completel}' chilled before we reached 
our destination. The old tavern looked 
dreary and uninviting. With a sinking 
livart I stepped from the sleigh and ac- 
companied Mr. Emery to the door. 
The premises were occupied by a family 
liamed Poor. Mr. Emery having intro- 
duced me to Mrs. Poor, went with Mr. 
Poor to the barn. My hostess led the 
' way to the large kitchen next the street ; 
the breakfast dishes had not been 
cleared, and the room bore a most un- 
tid}' aspect. A chair having been dust- 
ed, I was requested to talie a seat at 
the fire. Gathering my handsome, 
light, drab cloth pelisse about me, I 
ventured to do so. While warming mj- 
benumbed feet the landlad.y never 
ceased Biaking apologies ; she had not 
expected me so early, she had small 
children, etc. I stopped the talk as 
speedily as possible b}" rising to go over 
the house ; the spacious rooms were 
dingy, dirt}', and meagerly furnished ; 
everything looked sombre and cheer- 
less ; I felt as though the}^ were peo- 



pled with all the defunct Rawsons and 
Pillsburys : in fancy, gliding before me, 
I saw Miss Rebecca Rawson, whom the 
scamp Thomas Rsmse}' so shamefully 
married, then robbed and deserted in a 
foreign land, and who soon after met 
with a tragical death, being swallowed 
up by an earthquake in Port Royal. 
Mr. Emery's brislv step and quick, busi- 
ness tone dispelled these illusions. Al- 
terations and repairs were discussed ; 
whitewash, paint and paper would work 
wonders. Quite inspired, I rode down 
to my Uncle Peabody's. 

Considerable trade had sprung up be- 
tween Newburyport and Alexandria 
and Georgetown, and several of our 
citizens had become residents of the 
District. Gen. Peabody had decided 
to join them ; preparations were in 
progress for the families' removal to 
Georgetown early in the summer. 

Mr. Bartlett still boarded at her sis- 
ter's ; her future was undetermined. 
I had long coveted the two card tables 
and some other articles of furniture that 
had stood in her parlor. Much to my 
delight I found that they could be pur- 
chased ; Aunt Peabody was glad to let 
me take some of her surplus things. I 
returned home that night well satisfied ; 
order was beginning to be evolved from 
the chaos of my brain, and courage was 
upspringing for the new career marked 
out for the coming j^ears. 

The wedding was on the 22nd of 
April. No one was present but the 
famll}'. Dr. Parish performed the cer- 
emony'. I wore a white India muslin, 
the skirt edged by an ornamental bor- 
der wrought in colored worsted ; bands 
of similar embroidery finished the neck 
and short sleeves, with a girdle to 
match. M}' walking dress was a short 
pelisse of light drab silk, trimmied with 



272 



REMIN'ISCENCES 



black lace ; the bonnet matched the 
pelisse, trimmed with bias folds of the 
silk bound with white satin, and white 
satin strings. The hair in full curls 
upon the temples, formed a sufficient 
face trimming. Mr. Emer}' had a blue 
coat with brass buttons ; drab pants, 
white vest, a drab overcoat, and a very 
stylish black beaA^er ; we both wore 
white kids. 

Mr. and Mrs. Carey with their two 
eldest children, Sophronia and Hannah, 
were alread}' settled in their rooms at 
the upper end of the house. On my 
arrival I found mj'self not only the land- 
lady of a public house, but the mistress 
of a family numbering seven persons ; 
besides Betsey Downing, the maid ser- 
vant, there were three hired men, Dan- 
iel Smith, Aaron Palmer, John Webs- 
ter, and a boy of fourteen named Guy 
Carlton Mackie. This lad had been 
cast a waif upon the world ; his expe- 
rience had been both varied and roman- 
tic ; his last feat had been to escape 
from a British man-of-war, where he 
had been brutally treated, as his scarred 
back bore witness. Mr. Justin Smith 
picked him up in Boston and brought 
him to Newburyport to tend in his res- 
taurant ; he might as well have eui- 
ployed a monkey. As the lad, in com- 
mon with most boys had taken a huge 
liking to Mr. Emery, Mr. Smith im- 
plored him to take him; "he could 
manage him if it was in the power of 
mortal to do it." Accordingly I was 
received by this hopeful, cap in hand, 
with the most graceful of bows. . For 
two years he continued the most faith- 
ful and devoted of servants ; my word 
was law, and he was equally obedient 
to Mr. Emery. Ever alert, quick-"wit- 
ted, possessing a knowledge of the 
world far beyond his years, he proved 



a valuable addition to the menage. 

The March previous Capt. Jeremiah 
Colman and First Lieutenant David 
Emery had both received promotion ; 
Captain Colman became Major of the 
regiment of cavahy, and Lieut. Emery 
took the command of the company. 
On the Monday following our mar- 
riage there was another choice of offi- 
cers, when Jeremiah Colman was chos- 
en Colonel and my husljand Major. 
Thus, in the period of one month, Da- 
vid Emer}' received both a captain's 
and major's commission in the troop, 
besides assuming the responsibility of 
marriage and the management of an ex- 
tensive business. 

Belleville presented at that time the 
same neat and pleasant appearance as 
now. At the junction of the main ferry 
and bi-idge roads, facing High street, 
stood the old-fashioned hay scales. The 
first house round "Newton Corner" was 
that of Mr. WiUiam Wade ; next came 
the fine residence of Mr. Robert Dodge ; 
below stood Varnum Howe's house and 
hatter's shop, the Gordon house and 
blacksmith's shop, the residences of 
Mr. Amos Atkinson, Col. Eben Hale, 
Mr. Folsom, Mr. Russel, Mr. Oliver 
Hale and Messrs. Moses L. and Theo- 
dore Atkinson. Below came the Qua- 
ker meeting-house and the mansion of 
the late Dr. Edmund Sawyer, then oc- 
cupied by his widow and family, and 
that of the Rev. James Miltimore, the 
Pillsbury place, the Atkins estate and 
the residence of Capt. Reuben Jones. 
The house on the corner of Toppan's 
Lane was owned by Mr. Jonathan Har- 
ris, whose wife was Anna Toppan, a 
daughter of the late Edward Toppan. 
Down the lane came Mr. Stephen Top- 
pan's house and the old Toppan home- 



OF A IS^OlvTAGEISrAELAJ^. 



273 



stead, then the propert}- of Mr. Enoch 
Toppan. 

The first house on the lower side of 
High street, from the bridge road, was 
that of Miss Eunice Atkinson, after- 
wards Mrs. Moses Currier ; the next 
})elonged to Mr. William Merrill ; next 
came the residences of Mr. Moses At- 
kinson, Orlando Merrill, Jacob Little, 
Stephen Little, the homestead of Josiah 
Little esq., Mr. Thomas Hale's house 
and hatter's shop ; William AYiggles- 
worth's house and that of Mr. Moses 
Merrill ; the next house belonged to 
"Marm Eowler," one of the ancient 
school dames ; below was a small one- 
story house, and another of two stories, 
the latter belonging to Dr. Edmund 
Sawyer's estate. On tliis side of the 
street was Russell's chaise mauufactorv. 
The sehoolhouse and meetinghouse 
stood together, above Moody's Lane ; 
below was Samuel Moody's house and 
that of Mr. Thomas P^mery ; on the 
iii)per corner of Tyng street stood the 
house built b}' Mr. Thomas Coker. 

The morning aftei- the arrival at our 
new home our next neighbor Parson 
Miitimore called, and in his genial man- 
ner bade us welcome. This was the 
commencement of a friendship that con- 
tinued to the end of the worthy clergy- 
man's life. Mrs. Miitimore, an invalid, 
visited but seldom, but the \oung peo- 
ple became most pleasant companions. 
The three sons, Andrew, James and 
John Murray, and the three daughters, 
Dorothy, Eliza and Mar}', had none of 
them yet left the paternal roof. 

The next Sunday we attended service 
at the Belleville meetinghouse. This 
was the first building, the one burned 
by liglitning — a good-sized edifice, with 
galleries, and a tall and graceful spire. 
A broad and two-side aisle led to the 



pulpit, which was in the style of the pe- 
riod ; a sounding-board was suspended 
above the desk, upon wdiich rested a 
green velvet cushion ; the arched win- 
dow in the rear was draped with a cur- 
tain of the same color ; the pulpit cush- 
ion, and the seats of the three yellow, 
oval-backed, wooden chairs which stood 
beneath it were covered to match. A 
mahogany communion table occupied 
the platform in front, and two hand- 
some glass candelabra were placed either 
side of the sacred desk ; there was no 
chandelier, l)ut the scones for candles 
were hung around the walls. 

The society was large and of the 
highest respectability. The Fillsbury 
pew, which we had hired with the place, 
was on the left side of the broad aisle 
from the entrance, and about half way 
to the pulpit ; one seat, which was cush- 
ioned, w^as reserved for Grandma' am 
Pillsbury ; the rest of the pew, hke 
those throughout the house, were un- 
painted boards hung upon hinges. 
Some faces were strange, but many of 
the congregation were relatives or ac- 
quaintances. There were the Little 
families from Turkey Hill and Belle- 
ville. Mr. Nathaniel Emery, from the 
lower parish of Newbury. The Top- 
pans, Atkinsons, Mr. Thomas Hale's, 
and all the families on High street above 
the meetinghouse, and many below, 
Mr. John Balch's and Capt. John Rem- 
ick's, and most of the other families 
from Bellevilleport. The choir, as was 
then the custom, was composed of vol- 
unteers, all good singers, and accom- 
panied by a bass viol. 

Gen. Peabody had established a store 
for dry goods in Georgetown, D. C. ; in 
Juae his wdfe and family left to join 
him. They sailed in the brig Citizen, 
Capt. Dole, of Ring's Island . This was 
35 



274 



REMESriSCElSrCES 



a regular packet plying between New- 
buryport and the District of Columbia, 
owned b}- Messrs. Robert, Allen and 
Frank Dodge. This firm was largely' 
engaged in the flour trade, and for its 
greater facility Mr. Frank Dodge had 
recently become a resident of George- 
town. This separation from my aunt 
and cousins was painful to the whole 
famity, but especially so to me ; I took 
my farewell the day prior to their de- 
parture. The spacious house was empt}' 
and closed ; the furniture, trunks etc., 
were loading for the vessel. ]My aunt 
and cousin Sophronia maintained a 
calm, even smihng exterior, though I 
well knew that gTcat heart sobs scarcely' 
permitted utterance. John, the oldest 
son, a handsome, noble joutli, coura- 
geouslv assumed tlie biu'then of man- 
hood, and the younger children clus- 
tered about me, giving their little mes- 
sages and last kisses. It was inexpres- 
sibl}^ sorrowful to leave my pet, my 
sweet, darling Adeline ; the beautiful 
girl so lovely in her suffering, clung to 
me in an embrace that spoke volumes ; 
and I could not but feel that this was a 
final adieu. Polly Smart, the faithful 
handmaiden of ^ears, who adhered to 
my aunt like Euth to Naomi, also came 
to say good-bye. Sad, sad was the 
parting, and it was through an irrepres- 
sible mist of tears, that from the upper 
window of the old Pills])ury house I 
watched the Citizen glide down the 
river and over the bar ; Tj'atched until 
she became a white speck on the sky, 
then wholly disappeared in the distance. 

Aunt Bartlett took the house and 
shop formerly occupied by Mrs. Searle, 
and with the assistance of two young- 
lady acquaintances she set up a fancj- 
goods and milliner's store. 

The intelligence of the declaration of 



r 



the war with Great Britain was re- 
ceived in Newburyport on the fourth of 
July. There had been a celebration, 
oration, etc.. Major Emery had been on 
duty, and C'ol. Moses Newell, of the 
upper parish, who dined with us. 
was apprised of the news at the table. 
There was much conversation, but my 
husband said little, and I knew b}' his 
grave taciturnity that he was troubled, : 
At night, after the house was still he 
came into my private parlor, and sink- 
ing into the large rocking-chair ex- 
claimed, ''Wife, I fear I am ruined." 
Whether it was my father's democratic 
rearing,- or a clearer insight, I cannot 
tell, but someway I did not share in 
this despondency, and soon succeeded 
in chasing the gloom from his brow. 



CHAPTER Lll. 

The declaration of war caused much 
anxiety for the safety of the Citizen. 
Two days' sail from Georgetown, and 
she was boarded by a British frigate. 
At her appearance Capt. Dole strove to 
outsail her, liut the third shot over his 
bows compelled him to heave to and 
answer the demands of ''where from" 
and "where to?" At the third ques- 
tion "with what laden ?" a clerk of Gen. 
Peabody's named AVilliam Brown, who 
accompanied the family, caught the 
speaking trumpet from the captain's 
hand, and shouted, "A few Yankee no- 
tions, such as women, children and 
spinning wheels." A boat was imme- 
diately lowered, but as the boarding offi- 
cer found that Mr. Brown had given a 
correct invoice, and though the declara- 
tion of war had passed the senate, its 
ratification by the House had not been 



OF A no?^age:n'Aiiia:n'. 



275 



received, after a short delay the Citizen 
was permitted to proceed to her destina- 
tion, which was rea'ched in safety, and 
my uncle's family were soon domesti- 
cated in their Southern home. 

In Federal New England the war was 
exceedingly unpopular, and the Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts appointed a pub- 
lic Fast. In eveiy seaport there was 
much distress. Labor was impeded ; 
the most industrious were enforced to 
idleness ; poverty took the place of 
plenty ; this was too often followed by 
despondency, drunkenness and miser}-. 
Many a noble man became a mere wreck 
of humanity, and many a delicately 
bred lady descended into an unthrifty, 
slatternly household drudge, while their 
offspring, half clad and half fed, mixed 
unrestrained amongst the very dregs of 
the population. "It is an ill wind that 
blows no one good." The war which 
ruined hundreds, brought, notwithstand- 
ing my husband's forebodings, great 
prosperity to the tavern ; we could not 
have engaged in a more lucrative busi- 
ness. British manufacturers having 
quantities of goods upon their hands, 
ran cargo after cargo into their eastern 
provinces, thence they were passed 
across the border and taken South by 
ox teams ; as our accommodations were 
excellent, the teamsters made "Em- 
ery's tavern" their headquarters. The 
first teams arrived in September — five 
carts loaded with a variety of goods, 
consigned to Boston merchants. From 
that time until the winter of 1815 more 
or less came every week, usuall}- to 
stop over night ; at sunset I have often 
counted a dozen or fifteen drawn up by 
the sidewalk, opposite the long barn, 
their motley coverings of patchwork 
quilts, coverlets etc., presenting a gyp- 
sy-like, semi-barbarous appearance. 



Gunpowder and other ammunition was ^ 
also transported. One night we slept 
with a large wagon loaded with powder 
standing directly oj^posite the house, 
but as the fact was not known until after 
its departure in the morning, no fears 
alarmed the household or neighborhood, 
but Mr. Emery was careful that there 
should not be an}' repetition of the risk. 
Commerce being entirely stopped, 
and the coasting trade greatly impeded, 
all imported goods commanded an ex- 
orbitant price. Flour rose to fifteen 
and eighteen dollars per barrel, brown 
sugar was twenty-five cents a pound, 
molasses a dollar fifty cents per gallon. 
Dry goods, crockery, glass etc., were 
equally dear. I paid a dollar a yard 
for calico, a common-sized looking-glass 
cost sixteen dollars, common tea-sets 
were from nine shillings to two dollars. 
My china set was sixteen dollars ; blue- 
edged dining plate were a dollar per 
dozen, knives and forks were from two 
and and a half to three dollars per doz- 
en. With the exception of corn and 
wool, all kinds of country produce was 
cheap. Good butter brought from nine- 
pence to a shilling, and cheese from 
eight to nine cents per pound ; potatoes 
were twenty-five cents per bushel. All 
kinds of butcher's meat was low. Ow- 
ing to the high price of wool the pelts 
alone paid the cost of the live animal, 
and a good carcass of mutton could be 
bought for fifty cents. Cheap as this 
was, owing to the lack of work, many 
had not the money to buy even a small 
piece of meat. Mr. Emery was in the 
habit of giving away livers, heads, and 
the cheaper pieces. Young lads out of 
our most respectable families, on half- 
holidays and after school, were glad to 
give a helping hand at the slaughter 
house, receiving in pay a liver, sweet- 



276 



EEMINISCEI^CES 



bread, or bones for a sonp. I have 
often watched them as they passed the 
house with then- baskets, their faces ra- 
diant in the expectation of a good din- 
ner on the mori-ow. Some of our best 
mechanics were ghid to dig potatoes on 
shares, thus securing a supply for win- 
ter. Mr. Emery having raised tln-ee or 
four hundred bushels, this was a mutual 
benefit. As the supply brought by the 
eastern coasters was diminished, wood 
rose to ten dollars per cord. Most of 
this was rafted down the river, but dur- 
ing the winter quantities came from 
New Hampshire ; in good sledding I 
have seen a dozen loads in a line pro- 
ceeding down High street. 

Federalist ideas were so prominent 
the fitting of privateers was sti'ongly 
opposed ; but as this was the onh* hope 
for our marine, and as the administra- 
tion had some strong supporters, dur- 
ing the suinmer a number of vessels 
cleared from Newburyport, "bound on 
a cruise." One of the most active in 
this business was Capt. Benjamin 
Pierce, a wealthy and influential citizen, 
largely interested in shipping. During 
the war he fitted out several armed ves- 
sels at his own expense and tendered 
them to the government. Capt. Pierce 
married Elizabeth Gerrish, who was 
connected with one of the most promi- 
nent and iufiuential families of the town, 
and through a long life she was emi- 
nent for piety, benevolence and patriot- 
ism. Capt. and Mrs. Pierce had five 
daughters and three sons — Sarah Coffin, 
who married Thomas H. Battell and 
afterwards Mr. James Oakes of Boston ; 
Elizabeth Maria, who married Mr. D. 
C. Moseley, afterwards, Hon. Joel W. 
White of Norwich, Conn., who was con- 
sul at Lions, France, for several years ; 
Rebecca married Mr. George Reed, a 



prominent merchant of Boston ; INIary 
became the wife of our respected citi- 
zen. J. J. Knapp, esq. After the fire |^ 
of 1811 Capt. Pierce built the mansion 
on High street, which after his decease 
came into the possession of Mrs. 
Knapp, where she resided until her 
death. This lady inherited the noble 
traits of her parents, and to an ad- 
vanced age, she was ever ready to lis- 
ten to an}' tale of suffering, while her 
hand and purse were alwaj'S open to ex- 
tend relief. Caroline, the 3'oungest 
daughter, is unmarried, and has long 
been a resident of New York city. The 
three sons, Benjamin, Chaiies and 
George, all died single. 

One of Capt. Pierce's vessels, the 
brig "Decatur," was commanded by 
Capt. Wilham Nichols. In July the 
sound of heavy guns called the popula- 
tion to the wharves and other outlooks 
commanding the water. Coming up the 
river was the "Decatur," gay with flags 
and streamers, followed by two English 
prizes, the brig "EUsabeth," taken on 
the 2oth of July, and the "Duke of Sa- 
voy," whose captain was shot dead at 
the wheel ; there was also a P^ench 
schooner, captured from the French by 
the English and recaptured by the "De- 
catur." A great crowd awaited the 
landing. 



CHAPTER Lin. 

Upon hiring the Pillsbury place Mr. 
Lmery had put up a bowling alley. 
This attracted the townspeople, and as 
it was a pleasant walk to Belleville, I 
had many callers. Several of the el- 
derly gentlemen became habitually ac- 
customed to saunter up to the tavern on 



OF A ko:n"Agenatiian. 



277 



pleasant afternoons, when they often 
dropped into ni}- private parlor for a 
chat. Mr. John Tracy, paralyzed and 
feeble, was a frequent visitor ; he was 
usually accompanied b}- his friend, 
Mr. Samuel A. Otis. Mr. Tracy 
was fond of recalling the events of 
his earlier days ; his tales of the Eev- 
olutionary period were ver^- interesting. 
During the winter that Boston was oc- 
cupied by the British, Mr. Tracy went 
to the city to visit his ladylove ; he had 
scarcely arrived, when he learned that 
Gen. Gage had gained intelligence of a 
vessel of his loaded with gunpowder 
which was nearly due, and had placed 
one of the Heet on the watch for her. 
Bidding his betrothed a hasty adieu, he 
again mounted his horse and retraced 
his steps with all speed, finding to his 
great Joy upon his entrance into New- 
buryport, his vessel safe at the wharf. 

As I have previously stated, Mr. 
Tracy and his brother Patrick w^ere 
largely engaged in privateering". A 
succession of ill luck had proved almost 
ruinous. At the end of 1 777 the broth- 
ers had lost forty-one ships. Mr. Tracy's 
only hope was centered in a letter of 
marque of eight guns, of which he had 
received no tidings. Walking one day 
with his brother, discussing the ways 
and means of obtaining subsistence for 
their families, a strange sail was es- 
pied making for the harbor. IMr. John 
Tracy jocosely exclaimed, "Perhaps it 
is a prize for me." Mr. Patrick laughed 
a doubtful laugli, but Mr. John inune- 
diately took a boat and went down the 
river. To his great amazement, on 
reaching the ship he found that it was 
really a prize belonging to him, worth 
five and twenty thousand pounds ster- 
ling. 

As the summer advanced dry goods 



of every description became excessively 
scarce, consequently exceedingly high 
in price. Though in most families 
there was more or less spinning and 
weaving, and the click of knitting 
needles was a familiar sound, it was 
diiWcult to procure proper apparel ; 
plainness in dress was enforced bA' ne- 
cessity. This state of things engen- 
dered an illicit traffic which our people 
as good Federalists were slow to con- 
demn. I v,'as awakened one night by 
a tap upon the window of my bedroom. 
Somewhat startled, I still forebore to 
awaken my husband, who had retired 
much fatigued. Slipping on a wn'apper, 
I raised the curtain and asked "Who is 
there?" "A friend ;" was the reply, 
"mtike no disturbance, but call the 
Major ; I must see him a few moments." 
I recognized the voice as that of Capt. 
Josiah Bartlett ; at that time an active 
shipmaster. Mr. Emery hastily dressed, 
when it was found that Capt. Bartlett 
had a stagecoach at the door, filled with 
merchandise, gloves, muslins, laces, 
vestings, ribbons, and other articles of 
a like description. These were hastily 
placed in my best bedroom, from whence 
they were gradually taken to the stores 
in town. Capt. Bartlett continued to 
bring goods for some time. We often 
had bales of valuable cloth hidden in 
the ha}' mow ; some were taken to 
Crane Neck and stored away in the 
large back chamber. 

The collector of the customs, Mr. 
Ralph Cross, and Master Whitmore, 
another custom house official, were in 
the habit of walking up to the tavern of 
a pleasant afternoon ; on one occasion 
I entertained the two old gentlemen in 
m}- parlor while Mr. Emery loaded a 
team at the barn with smuggled goods 
and drove away to West Newbury with- 



278 



REMIlSnSCElSrCES 



out exciting the slightest suspicion in 
the government officers, though the 
whole household were on the broad 
grin, and I was obliged to control my 
risibles and give a variet}' of private 
signals to the others to prevent an un- 
seemly outburst of merriment. /V 
/Late in the autumn Mr. Luther Wa- 
terman and Mr. Joshua Aubin received 
notice that a lot of linen awaited their 
order at ''Keunebunk wharves." How 
were they to get it to Newburyport ! 
"The Major" was ever^'body's resource 
in a dilemma, and no excuse would be 
received; "he must get that liuen." 
Mr. Emery hesitated ; it was a job he 
did not relish. Besides having inherit- 
ed his father's consumptive tempera- 
ment, his health was such he could ill 
bear over fatigue and exposure, but 
overcome b}' his friends' importunity, 
he at length reluctantly made his prep- 
arations for the journe}-. Wishiug to 
remain unrecognized, he donned his 
worst suit of clothes, to which was add- 
ed a gray spencer belonging to my 
brother James, too short in the waist 
and sleeves ; over this was drawn an 
old overcoat, which as it was minus 
several buttons, was secured by a red 
surcingle ; an old slouched hat and a 
pair of striped woollen mittens complet- 
ed the disguise. 

In the summer of 1811, Mr. Emery 
had driven to market the first covered 
butcher's cart. This wagon had been 
made to order, and was A 1 in ever}' 
respect. To this wagon, for the Kenne- 
bunk expedition, were harnessed "tan- 
dem," the Major's splendid parade 
horse, '■'Peacock" and our familj- horse, 
"Kate," a beautiful sorrel mare. 1 ex- 
pressed to my husband the fear that the 
contrast between his dress and his 
team might excite suspicion. My dis- 



quietude became increased at finding 
after Mr. Emery's departure that our 
house dog "Turk," a handsome and 
noted animal, was missing. According 
to my husband's direction, he had been 
shut into my room, but "snuffing the 
battle afar," in some unknown way he 
obtained egress, and started ahead, 
keeping shrewdly out of sight until his 
master had advanced too far on the 
road to turn back. 

Mr. Emery set out early on Monday 
morning. Wednesday night the wel- 
come rumble of wheels, and his glad 
tones, brought the whole family to 
the door. A large hogsliead marked 
"Rum," filled the wagon, which was 
driven to the barn and unloaded. Turk, 
quite tired out, sought his nook beside 
my parlor fire, whither he was soon 
followed by his master, who having re- 
freshed himself by a change of raiment 
and a good supper, entertained me with 
an account of his adventures. 

The journe}' to the "Wharves" was 
made in good time. The goods were 
stored in the warehouse of a retired sea 
captain. This gentleman had been 
largely engaged in the West India trade, 
and there were plenty of rum casks at 
hand. After some consultation it was 
decided to pack the linen in one of 
these, which was done. A certificate 
must be at hand, but as the one belong- 
ing to this cask could not be found, 
another was adroitly altered. It was 
late ere all the arrangements were com- 
pleted, and the captain invited Mr. 
Emery to pass the night at his resi- 
dence, where he was entertained most 
hospitablv. The following morning the 
cask was hoisted into the wagon ; there 
were plenty to assist, several very gen- 
tlemanly looking young men lending a 
hand with alacritj'. It was nearly- 



OF A JfOlSTAGElSrAIlTAJSr. 



279 



noon before eveiything had been com- 
pleted. B3' mistake the lower road was 
taken. AVishing to avoid the ferry at 
Portsmonth. Mr. Emery inquired of a 
young fellow he met how it could be 
done. The gift of a cigar won his 
good offices, and he volunteered to lead 
the way thi'ough a cross-road that 
turned on to the upjier route. Night 
closed in ; the path led through dense 
woods ; an early snow that elsewhere 
had vanished, covered the ground ; 
here and there were small clearings, 
where a log hut loomed up amid the 
charred stumps, its one or two small 
windows, radiant from the pine knot 
within, and crowded with faces that the 
crunch of the wagon through the snow 
had drawn thither. 

The main route having been gained, 
his conductor left him. Having driven 
till past midnight, he came to a large 
tavern ; after repeated knocks a bo3''s 
head was thrust from a window, who 
shouted, "'taint the teamsters, Mr. 
Smith, it's a man." After further par- 
ley the door was opened, and the land- 
lord, beariug a lantern, came out, ex- 
cusing the delay ; he was troul)led with 
teamsters from the back settlements, 
who only came in to warm themselves 
and get a drink, and the lad had been 
directed not to disturb the house b}' 
their admittance. The horses were sta- 
bled and a good supper provided, of 
which ^[r. Emery partook, with Turk, 
who with true canine sagacity, fully 
shared his master's responsibility. The 
meal over, the landlord lighted his 
guest up-stairs. "There are three oth- 
er gentlemen in the chamber, but you 
will fmd an empty bed," he said, as he 
opened the door. True ; there was an 
•^empty bed," but the occupants of the 
two others had stripped it of every arti- 



cle of covering excepting the sheets. 
Making virtue of necessity, Mr. Emery 
quietly slipped in alongside of the soli- 
tary sleeper in the second couch. It 
was scarcely dawn when his light slum- 
ber was broken by the rising of the oc- 
cupants of the first bed. After they 
had gone .down Mr. Emery rose and 
dressed wdthout disturliing his lied fel- 
low. As preparations for breakfast 
were in progress, he sat down by the 
bar room fire to wait for a cup of coffee. 
As he did so. one of his room mates said 
to the other, "That fellow up-stairs has 
lieen to Portmouth and got a custom- 
house commission." Mr. Emery could 
not repress a start ; there he had been 
snoozing beside aU' officer of the cus- 
toms, having taken his bed by storm. 
After a moment's consideration he con- 
cluded it best to order his horses and 
drive a few miles before breakfasting. 
Just as the wagon was brought to the 
door, the government appointee came 
below. Eyeing the team with a scrutin- 
izing air, he bade Mr. Emery "Good 
morning," adding "Fine horses, sir; 
a handsome dog. From the eastward, 
I presume?" 

The captain at the "Wharves" had 
given Mr. Emery several bunches of 
choice cigars. Handing liis interrogator 
an Havana, Mr. Emer}' took the reins. 
The custom house officer politely thank- 
ing him, inquired, "if he had cigars to 
sell?" "Oh! no; only a few for his 
own use, and to present to a friend," 
Mr. Emery returned, giving him a half- 
dozen. Bowing his thanks, the officer 
asked, ' Where that liquor was going?" 
expressing a doubt of the reliabilitj' of 
the cask. Mr. Emery was on the box, 
and away ; too hurried to answer these 
pertinent queries. Nothing noteworth}' 
occurred until he reached Hampton, 



280 



REMnsnscEisrcES 



when the weight of the linen was so 
great the tiansom bolt broke just in 
front of the tavern. Mr. Emery went 
down between the wheels, but received 
no serions injury. The Avhole village 
rushed to liis assistance, and a black- 
smitli soon repaired damages. Mr. 
Emery was a personal acquaintance to 
every one of his assistants, bnt he could 
not repress a slight trepidation during 
his detention ; this was increased by 
the good-natured hostler's appearance 
with hammer and. wedge, to drive the 
hoops of the cask, fearing it might leaiv. 

"We won't lose any of the good 
stuft\ Major." he said, as he mounted 
into the wagon. "Darn the old thing !" 
he continued, "it's a trump, anyhow. 
If ever I see sich a ricketty thing hold 
out like that ! Why, thunder and tow ! 
it's calked liere with oakum ! Firea- 
tion ! why don't it weep out? Well, I 
must say it beats the Dutch !" 

The boU was in its place. Mr. Em- 
ery gladly drove forward and reached 
home without an}' farther adventure. 
The following day the linen was taken 
from the cask, packed in boxes and car- 
ried into town. 

Tliat winter, Mr. Enoch (Jerrish of 
Boscawen, came with a large pung load- 
ed with calicoes and cotton shawls, 
which he had smuggled out of Canada. 
The shawls were quite pretty, having 
white or buff centres and high- colored 
borders ; they sold for four dollars 
apiece. T took calico for a dress and 
a shawl ; two other shawls were sold 
in the house ; the remainder of the 
goods were slyly conveyed in the even- 
ing to the store of Miss Dolly Carnes. 
This new stock brought a rush of cus- 
tom to that spinster's establishment, 
which at that time was in the Dr. Cof- 
fin house on High street. Shawls weie 



in great demand. The previous autumn 
many ladies had knit or net them from 
woollen yarn of their own spinning and 
coloring. My husband's grandmother, 
Ruth Little, net several, and his cousin, 
Sally Little, knit one on large wooden 
needles for me, which 1 had colored at 
Pearson's Fulling Mill. This shawl 
was very pretty, and most comfortable, 
being both soft and warm. 

Wood was so scarce and high, peat 
came into general use. Mr. Emery 
owned a peat meadow, and we burned 
peat mixed with wood in all the fire- 
places, but the bar room was heated 
entirely from peat. Mr. Emery con- 
trived for it a grate, which rested upon 
large iron fire-dogs. The room was 
low but very large, and this i)eat when 
in full glow, radiated so much heat that 
a seat was comfortable at the farthest 
corner from the fire in the coldest 
weather. 

With the sleighing came country 
teams, loaded with butter, cheese, poul- 
ti'v etc. Sometimes the house was 
crowdcul. Many of our Boscawen 
friends were accompanied by the ladies 
of the ftimily ; these were ray private 
guests, with whom I went shopping and 
visiting. 1 lived in such a whirl, self 
was unheeded. We were doing well, 
making money ; everything was bright 
and lively ; only now and then I real- 
ized how fatigued I daily became. One 
cold night a large party drove to the 
door ; Mr. Emery was absent ; I told 
Guy to have a good fire in the bar room. 
The lad threw on a bushel or so of 
peat ; this had only commenced smok- 
ing when the men entered. ••What in 
the world is this? what has the Major 
here?" exclaimed one, poking the turf 
with his whip stock. •'Well, I guess 
we shall get warm round this pile of 



OF A NOIiTAGEN^AIilAlSr. 



281 



dirt !" said a second indignantly. "Con- 
found the stuff! this don't look like 
David," complained a third. The sum- 
mons to supper was given ; b}' the time 
it was over the peat was thoroughly 
agiow. Eanging their chairs in a cir- 
cle about the fire, the party made them- 
selves comfortable with their tobacco 
pipes. It was not long before one 
chair was moved back, then another, 
still a third and fourth, when a general 
eulogium was pronounced upon the 
"Major's durned stuff'." 

Mr. Emer}- kept a quiet, orderty 
house ; a ban had been placed upon po- 
litical discussion, parties were at such 
variance, so much animosity was often 
expressed that this was the only safe 
course ; but upon this evening, having 
the room to themselves, the gentlemen 
commenced the all-absorbing topic. 
Thev were pretty equall}" divided in 
sentiment, and being friends and neigh- 
bors, for a time the discussion was car- 
ried on pleasantl}', in temperate terms ; 
but the peat fire, temper, etc., bid fair 
to bring on a tempest. My parlor 
opened into the bar room ; I had been 
a listenei' to the whole conversation, 
and was just debating the propriety of 
going to the disputants, when Mr. 
James Corser of Boscawen, who had 
been reclining on the bunk which Guy 
occupied nights, slyly lifted the whip, 
and applying the handle to his lips, sent 
forth an exact representation of a bugle 
blast. The companj- sprang to their 
feet as one man ; a general laugh en- 
sued, politics were forgotten, while Cor- 
ser entertained them with a unique mim- 
icry of various musical instruments, and 
other drolleries, which in these days 
would have given him a fortune as a 
public exhibitor. Our peat fire greatly 
surprised and pleased a 3'oung Ii'ish 



peddler, who had brought a piece of his 
native bog in his pocket all the way 
from the old country, to show as a cu- 
riosity, and to look at when homesick, 
never dreaming that there were peat 
bogs in America. 



CHAPTER LIV. 

Mr. Carey had lieen hired for a year ; 
when this had expired he went in to 
business foi- himself and moved on to the 
Boston turnpike. Mr. Charles Ban- 
croft took his place, and a second wag- 
on was put into the business which was 
driven by Mr. John Pillion. Phineas 
Whittier from Boscawen and Richard 
Garland from Gilmanton were the farm 
hands. 

Everything went on as usual through 
the summer. Little did we foresee the 
trouble in store. On the 2;3th of Au- 
gust both Mr. Emery and Mr. Bancroft 
were taken ill of fever. Mr. Bancroft 
went to his home in Amesbury, where 
after lingering eight weeks he died. 
Mr. Emery had a slow, intermittent 
fever, which ran forty days ; he was 
very sick ; two attacks of pleurisy for 
a time gave small hopes of his recov- 
eiy, but after the fever turned he began 
to slowly rally, and though confined to 
the house through the winter, in the 
spring, though feeble, he again resumed 
business. During this long illness hosts 
of friends rallied to our assistance ; I 
have ever cherished deep feelings of 
gratitude for the affection and sympathy 
then shown. 

Mr. Whittier attended Mr. Bancroft's 

funeral, at which he took a cold, 

which brought on a severe typhoid fe- 

3G ' •- 



282 



REMENTSCEN^CES 



ver. Meantime the house was over- 
flowing with company ; my brother 
James had come to take charoe. but I 
was often compelled to settle accounts 
and attend to other business. I had 
plent}" of good help, and Mrs. AVhittier 
came to her son, still, for months I was 
not free from anxiety respecting the in- 
valids, neither eating nor sleeping witli 
an}' regularit}-. ''As th}^ day is, so 
shall th}' strength be." Owing to a 
kind Providence, I was sustained 
through all these arduous duties. 

In 1812 Dr. Dean Robinson became 
a resident of the lower parish in New- 
bur}'. In a short time he acquired 
great popularity and an extensive prac- 
tice, not only in Newbur}- and New- 
buryport, but in the adjacent towns. 
Handsome, possessing a winning ad- 
dress, everywhere his reception was 
most cordial ; no physician ever com- 
manded more universal love and re- 
spect. Previous to his coming to New- 
buryport he had married the widow 
Farnham, of Andover. Dr. Poore had 
become aged and very deaf, all com- 
munication with him Ijeing held by the 
aid of an ear trumpet ; but still he con- 
tinued his dail}' rounds, the saddle-bags 
strapped to the saddle, plodding along 
on his staid old horse, the companion 
of 3'ears. 

One afternoon the eccentric old gen- 
tleman rode up to Dr. Robinson's door 
and beckoned to Mrs. Robinson to come 
out. The lady answered the summons, 
when stooping down and peering into 
her face, her visitor exclaimed, "•They 
tell me your husband is so much hand- 
somer and 30unger that he will get all 
niA' practice ; but you tell him that if he 
does I can beat him in one thing. Toe 
the hanihom.est wife." Having deliv- 
ered this pronunciamento with his usu- 



al nasal accent, in a tone of unquestion- 
able positiveness, the Doctor jerked up 
his reins and rode al)ruptly away, leav- 
ing the astonished Mrs. Robinson stand- 
ing by the roadside in a state of bewil- 
dered amazement, from which it took 
some moments to recover. With a 
hearty laugh the lady returned to the 
house, and her graphic desci'iption and 
apt mimicry of the scene became a 
source of great merriment to her hus- 
band and friends. ^ 

Dr. Robinson had been chosen sur- 
geon to the regiment ; in this way Mr. 
Emery had made his acquaintance. 
Though Dr. Noj'es and Dr. Vergenies 
were called, he was the attending ph.y- 
sician through the illness of both ]\Ir. 
Emery and Mr. Whittier. His solici- 
tude and care were unwearied : to my 
husband and myself he grew dear as a 
brother ; a friendship was formed which 
never varied in the future, but contin- 
ued to the end of the Doctor's long and 
useful life. 

In September the news of Perry's 
^'ictory on Lake Champlain brought 
great rejoicing. Guns were fired, bells 
rung, crackers snapped, horns sounded, 
every demonstration of joy that noise 
could express was made. Mr. Emer}' 
was scarcely convalescent, and the din 
proved too much for his weak nerves. 

After worship had been discontinued 
at Queen Ann's Chapel, the building 
fell into decay ; the bell hung in the 
belfry for ten years, when one stormy 
night the steeple blew over and the bell 
was thrown into the road. Mr. David 
Whitmore wheeled it into his barn, 
where it remained for some time. At 
Mr. Whitmore's request the bell was 
removed to the residence of Mr. Josiah 
Little, till the building of the school- 
house on High street, when it was hung 



OP A NONAGEI^ARTAN. 



283 



in the belfry, where it was used to sum- 
mon the scholars to school, and on Sun- 
da3'S the congregation to meeting, as 
the tower of the meetinghouse had nev- 
er been furnished with a bell. The 
boys, with their usual delight, in noise, 
kept tills bell in such a constant jingle 
througli the day that at length I was 
obliged to have the clangor stopped. 

In October, Mr. Solomon Bal)b took 
the place of Mr. Whittier. Mr. Babl) 
came into the family at a time of pecu- 
liar trial, but he was found equal to 
every emergency, and for thirteen 
j^ears he continued our factotiun, both 
out of doors and within. 

In December Daniel Thurston Col- 
raan, the oldest sou of Uncle William 
Colman, of Byfield, suppUed the place 
of the deceased Mr. Bancroft. Mr. 
Colman continued in the l)utchering 
business for many years, until failing 
health compelled him to yield his place 
to his son. He has i-ecently deceased, 
having for some time been the only sur- 
viving member of those tlien attending 
the market, and for many subsequent 
years. 

In March, a recruiting band being in 
town drumming up recruits for the reg- 
ular army, Guy Carlton Mackie, follow- 
ing his native-l)orn instincts, ran away 
from scliool, and without giving us the 
least warning, enlisted and marched 
away without one word of farewell. 
We were heartily sorry for the lad, but 
as he was off before we learned that he 
had left school, nothing could be done. 
and Mr. James Care3-'s younger brother 
David supplied liis place, and took the 
new suit of clothes Guy left, tliey prov- 
ing a perfect fit. Several years after 
Guy ran in to see us a moment, being 
on his way with a detachment of sol- 
diers from one of the eastern to a 



southern port, and that is the last we 
ever heard of him, though an interest 
was always cherished in his future ca- 
reer. 

In the summer of 1814 the news of 
Napoleon's abdication brought a second 
gala to the town. The success of the 
allies was celebrated by a display of 
flags upon the shipping, the ringing of 
all the bells, excepting that of the Sec- 
ond Presbyterian meeting-house — Rev. 
Mr. Giles, and the firing of a grand, 
royal French salute of twenty-one guns, 
and at sunset a New England salute of 
five guns. In the evening the town 
hall, observatory, and other public 
buildings were brilliantly illuminated, 
and transparencies with appropriate 
mottoes were exhibited. Parson Giles 
was too consistent in his political opin- 
ions to permit his bell to add its tones 
to this jubilee. This course was sup- 
ported by the Democratic citizens, and 
there were members in the Federalist 
ranks who disapproved of the mani- 
festations, especially the New England 
salute of five guns. 

The week after my marriage, the 
tlu-ee-story house nearly opposite the 
Pillsbury place, was raised by Mr. 
Humphrey Webster, who then resided 
in a similar house which he had built 
on Tyng street. The hard times pre- 
venting the completion of this building, 
it stood for some time unfinished. 

In April, 1813, on the night before 
Fast, Miss Margaret Lakeman was 
married to Mr. Joseph Magowen, at 
the residence of Col. Colman. My hus- 
band and I attended the wedding ; it 
was between ten and eleven when we 
returned. Nothing unusual was then 
seen or heard. About midnight I was 
awakened by the dogs ; Turk and anoth- 
er large dog at the barn were barking 



284 



REMIN^ISOEI^CES 



furiously, and a small dog that shared 
Gu3''s Ijunk added his voice to the con- 
cert. Rising, I opened the door into 
the bar room, inquiring, "What is the 
matter?" Guy, in a sleepy tone re- 
plied, "that he had looked out, but saw 
nothing." I returned to bed ; the dogs 
became quiet, and I heaixl no more un- 
til morning, when Bets Downing's out- 
cry roused the Avhole family. Burglars 
had removed the putty from a pane of 
glass, passed in a hand and taken out 
the nail which fastened the window, 
thus obtaining entrance into the kitchen 
next the shed. Having made a good 
meal of hashed meat and bread, they 
took a large silver spoon, a couple of 
overcoats, two or three pairs of boots, 
some stockings and underclothing, Bet- 
sy's reticule, containing her needle- 
book, thimble and scissors, a Bil)le and 
a History of Joseph. The barking of 
the dogs evidently hastened their de- 
parture, as two or three pieces of nan- 
keen and some other articles that had 
been taken from the drawer of a desk 
in the room were left scattered over the 
floor. A large wagon loaded with choc- 
olate stood b}' the barn, but the dogs 
proved an effectual guard, not a cake 
being taken. 

From om- house the thieves proceed- 
ed to that of Mr. Russel, where they 
stripped a large clothes-horse of the 
week's ironing. Mr. Russel, a carriage 
builder, had a large famil}^ small chil- 
dren, and apprentices. Most of the 
lads were minus clean clothes for Fast ; 
even the infant's clothing was all taken. 

Robber}^ was not common in those 
days, and this caused a great stir. 
Notwithstanding a general search, no 
trace of the miscreants was found, with 
the exception of Guy's boots, which 
were nearly worthless, and the leaf from 



the Bible upon which was written Da- 
vid Emery ; these were picked up in a 
thicket l\v the roadside a short distance 
beyond the Essex IMerrimac bridge. 
As two men had been seen prowling 
around the unfinished house, the neigh- 
borhood became alarmed, and iVFr. Em- 
ery advanced Mr. Webster five hundred 
dollars for its completion, taking a 
mortgage on the property. The house 
was soon finished and rented to Mr. 
Aaron Stevens. 

At the commencement of the eitv of 
Lowell Mr. Webster was amongst the 
first mechanics to go thither. The firsi 
money there earned paid that mortgage. 
No stage had then been put on the 
road, and Mr. Webster walked the 
whole distance from Lowell to bring 
the money. 

The spring of 1813 George Pealiody 
came to say farewell, having concluded 
to join his uncle at the South. This 
was the first step in the ascent to his 
future prominence and wealth. One 
person's misadventure sometimes makes 
another's fortune. Had it not been for 
the great fire, and Gen. Peabody's re- 
moval to the District of Columbia, 
though doubtless George would have 
become wealthy and powerful, it is not 
probable he would have occupied the 
place he sulisequently filled. After a 
business connection with his uncle of 
about two years, young Peabody en- 
tered the wholesale drapery business 
with Mr. Elisha Riggs. In 1815 the 
house was transferred from George- 
town to Baltimore, and in 1822 branch 
houses were established in New York 
and Philadelphia. In 1830 Mr. Elisha 
Riggs having retii'ed, Mr. Samuel 
Riggs entered the firm, which under the 
st3'le of Peabody, Riggs & Co., became 
one of the leading houses of the coun- 



OF A NONAGE]S^ABIAN. 



285 



try. After several trips to Europe, in 
1837 Mr. l'eabo(\y took up his resi- 
dence in London, and commenced his 
successful career as banker and broker. 

Monday, the 13th of February. ISl.o, 
news arrived that a treaty of peace had 
been made at Ghent. It was good 
^sleighing. Col. Colman and my hus- 
band started that morning for Bosca- 
wen. Glancing from the window I es- 
pied Edmund Baker, a lad formerly 
employed at Gen. Peabody's, running a 
horse up the street. As he neared the 
house he sprang up in the stirrups, and 
swinging his hat above his head, vocif- 
erousl}' shouted, "peace, peace." Dash- 
ing to the door, he screeched ''Where's 
the Major? Peace, peace." Throwing 
up his hat and catching it, he began to 
hurrah, again calling loudly for the 
Major. I had scarcely' made the excit- 
ed lad comprehend that the Major was 
away, before I espied Zachariah David- 
son coming in a sleigh ; his horse was 
at the top of its speed, and he was 
.shrieking '-peace, peace," at the top of 
his voice. Drawing up before the door, 
he too commenced shouting for the 
Major. 

Having ascertained that the good 
news was really true, and informed 
Mr. Davidson of the Major's absence, 
"Zach" drove on to spread the glad tid- 
ings, and Edmund returned to town, 
"awfull}' sorry that he could not have 
told the Major first." 

In a few moments others arrived ; 
the house became thronged, and the 
whole populace went half crazy with 
deliglit. Tuesday' evening Col. Colman 
and m}- husband arrived. Having 
learned the welcome news in Concord, 
they at once retraced the road home. 

Belleville was counted Democratic — 
or Republican, as the part}' was then 



termed — Belleville port had l)een es- 
pecially noted for Jacobinism. Belle- 
ville decided to celebrate the ratifica- 
tion of peace, which was done by the 
President on the seventeenth. The 
next Monday afternoon an address was 
delivered in Belleville meeting-house 
by young John Merrill, son of Mr. Or- 
lando Merrill. The house was crowd- 
ed. John Merrill was then engaged to 
his future wife, a daughter of Mr. Rob- 
ert Dodge. The Dodge family occu- 
pied a pew next to ours, and when the 
young man entered, habited in Parson 
Miltimore's black silk surplice, which 
had ))eeu loaned for the occasion, a 
gown l)eing at that time a fashional)le 
garb for a public speaker, and with 
grave decorum accompanied the digni- 
fied clergyman up the aisle and pulpit 
stairs, the three Dodge girls were con- 
vulsed with laughter ; their sly glances 
to me so excited ni}- risibles, that I had 
much ado to recover equanimity, and I 
could see that Miss Elizabeth was ex- 
cessively nervous through the exercises. 
There was a prayer bj' Parson Milti- 
more, an appropriate ode was sung, 
then the young orator rose to perform 
his task. I could but sympathize w'ith 
the Dodge family in their anxiet)*^ for 
his success, but the young man acquit- 
ted himself admirably. His oration 
won great applause, and from that 
epoch the gentleman took his place 
amongst our most gifted and prominent 
citizens. 

In the evening there was a grand il- 
lumination throughout the parish. The 
old Pillsbury house was as brilliant as 
tallow candles could render it, and the 
ancient mansion looked prettily pictu- 
resque with its lights twinkling in its 
and many various sized and shaped 
casements. 



286 



REMLN'ISCEN'CES 



CHAPTER LV. 

Soon after the declaration of peace 
we had the pleasure of a visit from 
cousin Sophronia Peabody ; she came 
and returned Avith Capt. Dole in the 
"Citizen." ]\Iiss Peabody had borne 
the transplanting to Southern soil most 
kindly ; she had secured man}' warm 
friends in the District and Maryland. 
She had much to tell of a life of which 
we knew little, and scenes and events 
which have become historical. Her 
ideas had changx'd and expanded, and 
her natural elegance of manner was ren- 
dered still more conspicuous by a dash 
of Southern polish. We laughed heart- 
ih' over an account of the first party 
she attended in Washington. Full of 
the Kew England Federalist notions, 
she promptly refused to dance with a 
most unexceptionable partner, simply 
because he was a most prominent Re- 
publican, l^eing obliged in consequence 
to pla}' wallflower through the evening. 
Some compensation was given by a 
presentation to Madame Patterson Bon- 
aparte. 

At the time of this lad^-'s marriage 
General and Mrs. Peabodj' were on the 
road to Philadelphia, and the General 
had the honor during a shower to es- 
cort the bride a short distance under 
his umbrella. His praise of her beauty 
and elegance had rendered the lady an 
object of especial interest to us, aud 
Miss Peabody greatly enjoyed sitting 
beside her ibr a half hour, while she 
carried on a liveh' conversation in 
French Avith the Spanish minister. 

Though receiving every kindness that 
could be rendered to strangers in a 
strange land, slight things often showed 
even tlien the latent fire which in after 
vears was destined to break forth in de- 



vouring flames — tlie cavalier disdain 
for the less refined but equally prouU 
puritan. P^dward, Gen. Peabody's 
third son, a bright lad of seven sum- 
mers, having unintentionally given of- ; 
fence to one of his sclioolmates, that 
young urchin persisted in following 
him round, shouting "Yankee tank^ 
Yankee tank !" Edward bore this until 
he considered forbearance no longer a 
virtue, when he gave the young South- 
ron such a thrashing that his [)uritan 
descent was ever afterward fully re- 
spected. 

The negroes were a constant source 
of novelty and amusement. My cousin 
related many tales of their faithfulness, 
and many funny anecdotes evincing the 
peculiarities of the race. An extreme- 
\y tidy, economical New England wom- 
an, my aunt was somewhat horrified at 
the general thriftlessness of both whites 
and blacks, while she astonished the 
neighborhood by her activity and ener- 
gy. Having employed a negress to 
scour the white, hard-finished wall of 
the parlor, she gTcatly excited that in- 
dividual's ire by compelling her to clean 
the wall to the ceiling overhead, instead 
of stopping half way as intended. The 
woman in h(n" wrath declared that 
"anyl)ody might see JNIissus Peabod}' 
was nuflfing but a Yankum wom-an; a 
Southern ladi/ would never have known 
whether the plaster was cleaned or not." 
r^During the war, Mrs. Madison found 
it as difficult to procure articles of lux- 
ury as those of less exalted station. 
Being ilti a dilemma respecting curtains 
for the -'Blue room" at the White 
House, she rode over to Georgetown to 
inspect Gen. Peabody's stock. He had 
a piece of l)lue silk damask, but it was 
only half the requisite quantity. What 
could be done ? An idea suggested it- 



OF A non-age:n-aiiiax. 



287 



self to the General. The furnishing of 
the best parlor and chamber of his 
State street house had been purchased 
in Italy by Capt. Caleb Lufkin, it hav- 
ing been ordered by a nobleinan of that 
country for his palace, but for some 
cause was never used, but sold. The 
upholsteiy and curtains were of a thick, 
heavy, watei'ed silk, with broad satin 
stripes, and of a most l>eautiful tint of 
3-ellow. Part of the curtains were then 
not in use, as in that warm climate 
white muslin was preferable. These 
curtains were brought for Mrs. Madi- 
son's inspection ; she was delighted, 
and took Gen. Peabody in her carriage 
to AVashington, to assist in planning 
the drapery. It was found that in size 
the golden curtains fitted the windows 
admirably, and mixed witli the blue, 
they gave the room a charming effect. 
Thus the Newburyport hanging re- 
ceived the distinction of gi-acing the 
Presidential mansion. The silk woven 
for a European aristocrat, thus decorat- 
ed the residence of the Democratic 
chief magistrate of these free and inde- 
pendent United States.; 

Miss Peabody 's description of the 
burning of the Capitol was exceedingly 
interesting. The approach of the Brit- 
ish had been anxiously watched by the 
people of the District, but not a doubt 
of the supremacy of the American arms 
was entertained, until the morning of 
the twenty-third of August. Earl}- on 
that day a rumor arose that the United 
States troops had been defeated at Bla- 
densburg. This report was soon con- 
firmed by the appearance of the re- 
treating militia. Squad after squad of 
soldiers passed in rapid flight during 
the morning. The panic became gen- 
eral ; most of the citizens packed their 
valuables and started for the country. 



Washington became nearly depopulat- 
ed ; everything in the form of an ani- 
mal or vehicle being pressed into ser- 
vice. Through the day this miscella- 
neous and incongruous procession had 
passed Gen. Peabody's residence; it 
was nearly four o'clock in the after- 
noon ; the stream of passers had great- 
ly diminished when the cry arose, "The 
President ! the President !" and a coach 
dashed past, on the back seat of which 
sat Mr. M'adison. The weather was 
excessively hot and the President had 
taken off his hat ; there was no mis- 
take, he was recognized at a glance. 

Could this be possible ! The family 
gazed in speechless amazement ; then 
the brave, noble- spirited Jolin burst 
forth in a torrent of indignation. ''Catch 
Yankees to have allowed the President 
to run in this fashion ! they would have 
died first, every mother's son of them, 
if they were all Federalists." Gen. 
Peabody shaijed his son's excitement. 
His miUtary ardor was completely 
roused. "Never was a building better 
located for defence than the; Capitol, if 
the soldiers, instead of running away, 
had spent the day in intrenching, some- 
thing might have been done." The 
General paced around with the impa- 
tience of a caged lion. He Avas urged 
to remove his family to the plantation 
of a triend a few miles back , but riding 
was painful to Adeline's lame hip, and 
the others preferred to remain and 
abide events. Towards night it was 
reported that the iron works, where 
cannon and ammunition had been cast, 
were on fire ; but this was a false ru- 
mor. The British troops without any 
halt pressed forward directly into Wash- 
ington ; about eight in the evening the 
advanced guard entered the city, and 
in about an hour the kindling fires 



288 



KEMIXISCEXCES 



showed that the work of destruction had 
commenced. It was a stiE. sultiy. 
moonlight night : not a breath swayed 
the flames which rose up : straight, 
mighty piUars of fire, forming a unique 
and magnificent spectacle. Graduallv 
they widened and brightened, till the 
Capitol, the buildings of the several de- 
partments, and the bridge over the Po- 
tomac, were wrapt in one sheet of fire. 
From the portico of their house the 
Peabody family watched the panorama, 
this disgraceful vandalism, with feelinge 
that can better be imagined than ds- 
scribed. At a late hour the two younger 
boys. Joseph and Edward, were fairly 
driven to bed : at breakfast they were 
not to be found. Much startled, the 
family were about to institute a search, 
when in marched the two young heroes, 
clad^in their last winter's scarlet suits. 
which they had donned for the occasion, 
thinking that these clothes would '"pass 
muster" amongst the British, their 
hands and pockets full of half-burnt 
charts, rulers, paper, knives etc., that 
they had picked up amongst the rains. 
With a grand air they reported the no- 
tice they had received. One officer had 
patted Edward's curly head, and in- 
quired "if he would not like to be a sol- 
dier?" To which the pert youth re- 
plied, "that he intended to be one. 
when he would whip the British sound- 
ly for thus dastardly burning our Capi- 
tol." This speech was received with 
roars of laughter; and one officer in a 
splendid uniform, said, "he would give 
a round sum to own that Yankee bo}', 
that he was made of the right stuff." 

Fears were entertained of marauders : 
but none of the soldiers crossed into 
Georgetown. During the afternoon an 
ac-cident spread great dii^may through 
the army. A quantity- of powder Ixad 



been hidden in a dry well, which was 
covered with plank. A party were 
lounging over the platform smoking, 
when a spark fell through a crevice and 
a terrible explosion followed. Some of 
the group were killed and others wound- 
ed. This accidental occurrence was re- 
garded as a Yankee trick, and it spread 
both c-onsternation and horror through 
the British ranks. The Yankees were 
full of tricks. Who knew but that the 
whole area was undermined ! Terror 
multiplied terror, till a panic took pos- 
session of the troops and they scarcely 
dared to move : every order was per- 
formed with fear and caution. In the 
evening this terror was heightened by a 
most terrific thunder storm : the oldest 
inhabitant could not recall its equal. 
Glare succeeded glare — a perfect sheet 
of lightning, while the thunder roared, 
rattled, crashed and pealed ; rain min- 
gled with hail poured down like a sec- 
ond flood, and the wind blew a perfect 
tornado. The negroes declared "the 
Lor Gor Ormity was taking up our side 
for sure." Perhaps the British enter- 
tained the same opinion. The fleet 
was driven from their moorings in the 
river and dashed 'against each other, 
experiencing considerable damage : 
tents were overturned, horses broke 
loose. alt<^ether it was a fearful night. 
The morning showed the enemy in full 
retreat. Before sunset the rear guard 
had marched forth, and in a few hours 
the last straggler had disappeared. 



CHAPTER LVI. 

The 9th of September, 1815, my first 
child was born, a girl, who lived but 
twentv-four hours. I remained feeble 



OF A N0N"AGE:N"ARIAI!T. 



289 



for a long time, and it was difficult to 
say "Th}' will be done." Parson Milti- 
more proved a precious friend at this 
season, and Dr. Parish often called with 
words of comfort and cheer. 

When Mr. Emery hired the Pillsbury 
farm, Daniel Colman came to Newbury- 
port to take the situation he relinquished 
in the business with Col. Jeremiah Col- 
man. That gentleman had recently 
purchased a residence in Newbury, on 
the Boston turnpike, whither he had re- 
moved. The last of October Mr. Dan- 
iel Colman was married to Miss Nancy 
Pike, the second daughter of Mr. Hen- 
r}' Pike, of Ring's Island. The young 
couple commenced housekeeping in half 
of Col. Jeremiah Colman's house, and 
there the wedding took place, a very 
pleasant famil}" gathering. Dr. Parish 
performed the ceremony. The good 
Doctor often boasted of having married 
the three brothers to three of the hand- 
somest and best women to be found. 
A large L was soon added to the house, 
giving accommodation to the two fami- 
lies ; but for some months the two sis- 
ters-in-law shared the kitchen, one hav- 
ing a fire in one corner of the capacious 
fireplace and the other in the opposite, 
the brick oven being used alternately. 
Mrs. Jeremiah Colman was fond of ad- 
verting to this period, alwa^-s ending 
her recital with "and we never had one 
word of diff"erence." 

The next year, 1816, was memorable 
as "the cold summer." The 1st of 
June Mr. Daniel Colman and wife, and 
Mr. Emery and m3'self, started on a 
journey to Boscawen. We set'out early 
Monday morning, a raw, pitiless da}', 
and this weather continued through the 
trip. We wore winter clothing, and 
fires were as acceptable as in January. 
Thursday w^as election day. We went 



into Concord in the morning to be pres- 
ent at the inauguration of the Govern- 
or. As it seemed fitting to dress for 
the august occasion, Mrs. Colman 
donned a blue crape, and one of those 
smuggled shawls that I have previously 
described. I wore a black crape, and 
a black, worsted summer shawl. Mr. 
Colman and Mr. P^mery escorted us to 
the meeting-house. The wind blew a 
gale, with an occasional shower of 
snowflakes ; it was so powerful that it 
was difficult to reach the church even 
with the gentlemen's assistance. Hav- 
ing become seated we strove to enjoy 
the scene ; but in vain. Our teeth fair- 
ly chattered in our heads, and our feet 
and hands were benumbed. Mrs. Col- 
man had a troublesome tooth, and that 
began to ache unbearably. We were 
truly thankful when the services closed. 
But our dinner at the hotel, in a large 
cold hall, was fully as uncomfortable. 
We were only too glad to order our 
horses ; but the wind was so powerful 
that in passing over Concord bridge I 
thought the chaise nnlst be overturned ; 
even Mr. Emery, who never feared any- 
thing, was a little discomposed. The 
night was passed at a hotel on the 
Chester turnpike, where in company 
with other travelers, we shivered round 
a rousing fire, complaining of the cold 
room. 

There was frost every month during 
the year ; but little corn ripened that 
season. As the Pillsbury place was 
high, warm land, we had a good crop. 
It was the same at Crane Neck ; my 
father raised the usual quantity ; but on 
many farms not a kernel ripened. This 
produced great distress. In the follow- 
ing spring seed corn shelled brought 
three dollars per bushel. 

On the 1st day of April in this year, 
37 



290 



KEMIXISCEIS^CES 



during the only heav}' thunder shower 
of the season, the Belleville meeting- 
house was struck b^^ lightning and 
speedily consumed. It was the after- 
noon for the annual spring town meet- 
ing, which was held in the lower parish 
meeting-house, and onh' two or three 
men in the whole vicinity' were at home. 
About half-past two I sat down before 
the fire in my room to warm m}' feet. 
Turk laid down beside me. It had 
been thundering some moments, but 
the shower came up apace. Suddenly 
a terrible clap burst overhead ; the 
lightning coming down the chimney 
crinkled upon the hearth about my feet. 
Turk jumped half way to the ceiling, 
then sank on the tloor, trembling with 
fright. For a moment I could not stir. 
Thinking that the' premises must have 
been struck, with a mighty effort I 
gained my feet, and by aid of the furni- 
ture reached the end window. Smoke 
was curling round the corner of the 
barn. Supposing it to be on fire, I was 
endeavoring to get to the door to call 
Mr. Babb, when he, shouting, "The 
meeting-house is struck, the meeting- 
house is on fire," seized a couple of 
pails of water, and with the bo}' ran up 
the street. The Portsmouth stage, 
Zaehariah Davidson driver, was exactly 
in front of the meeting-house when the 
bolt struck, and the two lead-ing horses 
were brought to their knees. Mr. Da- 
vidson ran his team down High street, 
giving the alarm. The few men about 
the neighborhood and a small arm}^ of 
women were soon at the scene of the 
conflagration. No water was at hand, 
and the fire spread with such rapidit}' 
little could be done ; only a few hymn- 
books, Bibles and pew doors were 
saved. The engines and fire companies 
came up from town, and the men ran 



their horses from town-meeting, but it 
was only to witness the fall of the 
sturdy frame of the sacred edifice. 
This was a severe loss to the societ}', 
but it was a dispensation of Providence, 
and no complaint could be made. Ar- 
rangements were immediatel}' entered 
upon for the building of another house, 
which was completed and occui)ied be- 
fore cold weather. During its erection 
the society worshipped in the court- 
house. 

I did not fully recover from the shock 
I had received for some hours ; and 
ever after, at the approach of a shower. 
Turk always, if possible, hid himself 
under a bed, showing great fear. 

After much dissension, the societ}^ in 
the upper parish of Newbuiy voted to 
refer the site for a new meeting-house 
to a committee of disinterested persons. 
Judge Timothy Pickering of Salem, 
and Governors John Taylor (rilman 
and Jeremiah Smith of New Hamp- 
shire were selected. These gentlemen 
ver}' properly decided that it should 
stand on the plain, a little below meet- 
ing-house hill. A neat edifice, of which 
the new church at Belleville was almost 
an exact counterpart, had. been complet- 
ed, and on the 12th of June, 181(5, the 
Rev. John Kirb}- of Middletown, Conn., 
was ordained. 

Two years previous, the 1st of June, 
1814, the Rev. Gilbert Williams, of 
Fog's Manor, N. J., had been ordained 
pastor over the second parish in New- 
bury. On the 31st of October, 1816, 
the Rev. Leonard Withington, of Dor- 
chester, was settled over the Oldtown 
Society. Dr. Withington had even 
then, though a young man and a stran- 
ger, made his mark, and his ordination 
was a season of rejoicing and festivit3\ 

Of the pleasant family- circle I had en- 



OF A NON^AGEJ^^AKIAltir. 



291 



tered at my marriage, no one was more 
respected and beloved than the widow 
of Col. Dudley Colman. Her fatlier, 
John Jones, esq., a gentleman of 
wealth and position, was great grand- 
son of Michael Wigglesworth, author of 
"Day of Doom," and grandson of Rev. 
Samuel Wigglesworth of Ipswich Ham- 
let, now Hamilton. Her mother was 
Mary Whii)ple of Grafton . Mary Jones 
Colman was his only daughter ; her 
only brother, Nathaniel Jones, died in 
early manhood, leaving three sons, 
Nathaniel, John and Samuel, and one 
daughter, Mrs. Katharine (Jones) 
Brown, the distinguished! -teacher in 
Newburyport, and Cleorgetown, D. C. 
After her husband's decease, Mrs. Col- 
man resided amongst her children. 
Previous to his settlement in Salem the 
Rev. Henry Colman was ordained over 
a society in Hingham. -As was cus- 
tomary for clergymen in country par- 
ishes, usually there were a few lads 
boarding in the family, fitting for col- 
lege under Mr. Colman's instruction. 
Peculiarly adapted for the olfice of 
teacher, a mutual regard was formed 
between master and pupils, which con- 
tinued through life. 

John Jones, the youngest son, mar- 
ried P^liza, daughter of Josiah and Olive 
Neal, and settled in Brooktield ; he died 
young, and his widow married his broth- 
er Charles, of Brookfield. Mr. Charles 
Colman was an active, courageous, en- 
terprising man, and unusually well in- 
formed ; he could speak both French and 
Spanish fluently. In the war of 1812 
he was taken prisoner, held as a host- 
age, and confined in the jail at Quebec. 
With two others he esacaped. Hving 
stolen a calf, which they managed to 
dress and roast, they made the best o| 
theii- way through the woods for several 



days, but were so blinded by mosquito 
bites they were unable to proceed, and 
were recaptured. Afterwards Mr. Col- 
man was taken to Halifax. At the dis- 
banding of the army he returned home, 
where he learned that at the time he 
was taken prisoner a Colonel's commis- 
sion was on the way to him, which he 
failed to get. But later he received the 
deed of one hundred and sixty acres of 
land, as other soldiers. Bridget Col- 
man, the only daughter remarkable for 
her beauty, married a French gentle- 
man named Chappetin, and went to 
Providence, R. I. 

Aunt Colman was accustomed to 
make an annual visit to her Newbury 
relatives, which caused much family 
festivitj-. Pearly in March we received 
intelligence that Mrs. Colman might be 
expected on the next Wednesday' in the 
two o'clock stage from Portsmouth. 
Punctually at the time appointed our 
visitor came. Dinner over, she called 
for the swift and began to wind the 
yarn to knit a petticoat, those garments 
at that time being universally worn. 
The stitches having been cast on two 
long wooden needles, her fingers flew 
with a rapidity seldom equalled,, while 
an entertaining conversation was sus- 
tained in which a thorough knowledge 
of the world was shown, a keen insight 
of men and modes, coupled with exten-. 
sive reading, expressed with a keen wit, 
and sparkling versatility of language 
which was most engaging. 

Invitations had been sent for a fam- 
ily gathering the next afternoon. The 
ladies came at three o'clock, the gentle- 
men joining them at tea. A merry 
evening was enjoyed. Father, and Un- 
cle Ben Colman and Uncle Searle were 
brimming over with jokes and tinec- 
dotes, in which they were fully sus- 



292 



EEMENISCEK^CES 



tained by their sons and nephews. 
Aiiut Dudley was unusuall}' entertain- 
ing. Aunt Doctor, (as the widow of 
Dr. Samuel Colman was usuall}' termed , ) 
a stout, dignified lady, became remark- 
abl}^ genial ; her daughter Mary Ann, 
the distinguished teacher, in a quiet 
way added much to the conversation ; 
her second daughter, Hannah, after- 
wards Mrs. Wait of Baltimore, a great 
beauty, looked unusual!}' lovely. Aunt 
Searle's black e3'es danced with glee, 
and Mrs. Jeremiah and Daniel Colman, 
with their little girls, completed the cir- 
cle. At nine o'clock the company sep- 
arated with expressions of satisfaction 
and the hope of many future reunions. 
Frida}' it stormed. One ought to have 
seen Aunt Dudley's fingers fly ! That 
evening the petticoat was completed — 
a feat scarcely equalled in the annals of 
knitting. 



CHAPTER LYII. 

The summer of 1817 President Mon- 
roe made a tour to New England. On 
June 16th a meeting of the citizens of 
Newbur3'port was called in the Town 
Hall to prepare for the distinguished 
visitor's reception, and the following 
gentlemen were chosen as a commiLtec 
of arrangements : 

Ebenezer Moseley, Abraham AVil- 
Uams, Robert Clark, Richard IJartlett. 
Stephen Howard, selectmen ; with Wil- 
liam Bartlett, Joseph Marquand, Moses 
Brown, William B. Bannister, Joshua 
Carter, Thomas M. Clark. William 
Cross, Daniel Swett, Joseph Williams 
and Josiah Smith esq. The committee 
invited the Hon. Jeremiah Nelson to 
join them. 



The following named gentlemen were 
appointed marshals for Newburyport : 

Maj. Joshua Greenleaf, Maj. Abra- 
ham Perkins, Capt. William Davis, 
Col. Enoch Plummer, Capt. Thomas 
Burrill, Capt. Joseph T. Pike, Maj. 
Ebenezer Stone, Doct. John Brickett, 
Butler Abbot, Maj. Oilman White. 
Newbury, joined in the reception, and 
Col. Ebenezer Hale, Maj. David Em- 
ery. Maj. Daniel Smith, Capt. John 
Emery Bartlett, Adj. George Water- 
man, acted as marshals from that town. 

On July 7th, the following military- 
order was issued : 

"Pursua'nt to Division orders, a mil- 
itary escort has been ordered to receive 
the President and his suit at Ipswich. 
The field and staff otllcers of the several 
regiments in the Brigade, together with 
such captains and subalterns as may be 
so disposed, will assemble in Ipswich 
in uniform, and mounted, on Thursday', 
10th inst., at 9 o'clock, to join in the 
escort. 

Regiment of Cavalry under the com- 
mand of Col. Jeremiah Colman. 

Brigadier General of the 2nd Brigade 
and Staff. 

Maj. General of 2nd Division and 
suite. 

Part of the Connnittee of Arrange- 
ments. 

Otllcers of the several Regiments in 
the 2nd Biigade, 2nd Division, M. M. 

Cavalcade of Citizens. 

The escort will receive the President 
at Ipswich and attend him through the 
Brigade. 

Maj. John Seott and Maj. David 
Wood, jr., are appointed JNIarshals, and 
will arrange the escort. 

Benjamin Stickney, 
i>i i!i.-(i('n. 2cl Biigjuk'. 2d Division, M. M. 

The cavalcade to form at the Lower 
(ireen ; carriages to proceed in the rear 
of the })rocession." 

Owing to unavoidable delay the Pres- 
ident did not reach Newburyport until 



OF A ]SrO:tfAGE;N^AIlIA:N^. 



293 



Saturday, the 12th of Jul}^ which was 
an extremely hot day. Durhig his se- 
vere and long sickness, thinking that 
his health would never again permit 
military duty, Maj. Emery resigned his 
position in the cavalry, consequently 
he had no connexion with the troops on 
this occasion, but he acted as marshal. 
He still retained his parade horse Pea- 
cock, and Col. Eben Hale rode our 
handsome mare Kate. The marshals 
wore chapeaus ornamented with a black 
cockade, a gilt eagle in the centre, and 
swords with scarlet sashes. As Col. 
Hale and my husband cantered down 
High street you would rarely see two 
finer or better mounted horsemen. 

"The cavalry under Col. Colman, the 
field and staff officers under the direc- 
tion of Majors John Scott and David 
Wood jr. , took up the escort and pro- 
ceeded to Parker river bridge, where 
the President was met by the Hon. Bai- 
ley Bartlett, sheriff of Essex, with his 
suite, together with the committee of 
arrangements, when Colonel Mosele_y, 
as their chairman, addressed him as fol- 
lows : 

Sir, — A number of the citizens of 
Newburyport and vicinity', desirous of 
paying you their respects, have taken 
this libcrt}' to meet you on your journey, 
and with 3'our permission will accom- 
pany you to Newburyport, where the 
citizens of that town will be happy in a 
more formal manner to pay 30U their 
salutations." 

The President left his carriage and 
mounted his horse. On reaching the 
Newbur^'port line, the peal of bells and 
the roar of cannon, from Capt. Coffin's 
well disciplined company' of Artillery, 
announced tiie approach of the distin- 
guished visitor. The President was 
greeted by loud hurrahs from the throng 
lining both sides of High street. At the 



Mall he was received by the Washing- 
ton Light Infantry, Capt. Balch, and 
passing under a civic arch which was 
tastefully decorated with wreaths of 
flowers, he passed through an avenue of 
youth of both sexes, arranged on each 
side. The school children wore a uni- 
form of white and blue, which was most 
becoming. In front of the Court House 
waved a revolutionary flag. The pro- 
cession, after proceeding the length of 
the Mall, marched down Market street, 
through Union, down Green, through 
Merrimac and Market square, up State 
street to Gilman's Hotel. This was the 
Eastern Stage House, kept by John Gil- 
man, which had been removed some two 
or three years previous from Col. Bart- 
lett's late residence on the corner of 
Temple street, to the mansion built by 
Gen. John Peabody, on State, corner 
of Harris street, lower half of the pres- 
ent Merrimac House. 

At the hotel the President was greet- 
ed by a larger assembh^ than had ever 
before collected in the town ; and as he 
entered, accompanied b}- (ien. Swift, 
Mr. Mason, other officials, and the com- 
mittee of arrangements, the gratulatory 
shouts of his fellow citizens rent the air. 
The chairman. Col. Moseley, spoke as 
follows : 

"Sir, — The citizens of Newburyport, 
by their committee, beg leave to pre- 
sent their sincere respects to the Chief 
Magistrate of the United States. 

Having been called by a free and in- 
telligent people to preside over their 
most important concerns, it must be 
peculiarly grateful to 3'our feelings at 
the commencement of your arduous du- 
ties to be made more particularly ac- 
quainted with their local interests, and 
to receive their affectionate and respect- 
ful salutations. It is no less pleasing 



294 



REMINISCEN-CES 



to us than bapp}' for the nation, that 
we derive the honor of tliis interview, 
from the practical operation of that 
maxim of 3-our iUustrious predecessor, 
the Father of his country, in his last af- 
fectionate address to his fellow citizens, 
that timely disbursements to prepare 
for danger frequently prevent much 
greater disbursements to repel it. A 
numerous and wealthy population, 
stretching along an extensive seacoast, 
present to a foreign enemy many allur- 
ing objects of attack, and the present 
period of peace and public tranquility 
appears peculiarly favorable for your 
patriotic efforts for our defence and se- 
curity. Enjoying as we do the bless- 
ings of a free government, our attach- 
ment cannot be the lees ardent when 
administered by one who took an hon- 
. orable and active part in those measures 
by which it was obtained. We trust 
that under your administration, by the 
smiles of a kind Providence, a spirit of 
peace will be generally ditfused, the ven- 
erable and pious institutions of our fath- 
ers preserved, and the citizens meet 
their appropriate reward in the lal)ors 
of agriculture, manufactures and com- 
merce, and in extending the sciences 
and arts. 

Accept, sir, our best wishes, that you 
may prosper in the important objects 
of your journey, and at the close of your 
labors receive a consolation, the most 
dear to a patriot, in the happiness and 
prosperity of his country." 

The President replied, "That he re- 
ceived with great sensibility the atten- 
tions of the citizens of Newburyport — 
that his principal object in making this 
tour was to see the situation of the peo- 
ple in different parts of the country, and 
the entrance and harbors of the princi- 
pal towns,- and to acquh-e such informa- 



tion as .would enable him better to dis- 
charge the duties of his office ; that in 
his journey he had been highly gratified- 
with the prosperous condition of the 
people, and that their situation was far 
more happy than that of any other in 
an}' part of the world, and that we could . 
not be sufficiently thankful to that 
bountiful Providence which had con- 
ferred upon us such distinguished bless- 
ings." The President concluded with 
desiring "that his grateful sentiments 
for the kind and respectful manner in 
which he had been received b}' the citi- 
zens might be communicated to them." 

After mutualh' exchanging civilities 
with his fellow citizens the President 
and suite sat down to a sumptuous din- 
ner, served up by Mr. Oilman with 
much elegance and taste. Gen. Swift 
presided at the table. Among the 
guests were Major Gen. Dearborn, 
Com. Bainbridge, Brig. Gen. Miller, 
Dr. Waterhouse and Gen. Brickett, 
with the reverend clergy from this and 
many of the adjacent towns. Gen. 
Swift announced the following as the 
toast of the President : "Happiness and 
[)rospeiity to the inhabitants of New- 
buryport." The President having sig- 
nified his pleasure to dispense with the 
escort of cavalry, retired into another 
apartment, and after taking an affec- 
tionate leave of the committee of ar- 
rangements he ascended his carriage 
amid loud and reiterated cheering and 
resumed his journey. At Amesbury he 
tarried about an hour, viewed the fac- 
tories, expressing his admiration at their 
situation and his gratification at their 
flourishing condition. He arrived in 
Portsmouth between six and seven 
o'clock. 

The President was highly giatified 
with the local situation of the town. 



OF A IfO:N^AGEl^AIlIA:N. 



295 



Liberal feelings ruled the day ; it em- 
braced all as Federalists, all as "Repub- 
licans. The regiment of cavalry com- 
manded by Col. Colman, conducted hi 
a manner gratifying to spectators and 
highly honorable to themselves. Col- 
lected as they were, from the remote 
parts of the brigade, great credit is due 
these troops for the alacrity with which 
they obeyed, and the promptitude with 
\^■hich the}' executed the command of 
the Brigadier General. They at once 
presented a pleasing specimen of good 
order, correct discipline, and soldier- 
like deportment. 

The following card was inserted in 
the Newbur3-port Herald of July 15th : 

"•The committee of arrangements in 
behalf of the citizens, present their 
thanks to the teachers of the respective 
schools, and the marshals of the da}', 
for the very handsome and interesting 
manner in which the children were pre- 
sented to the view of the President on 
the day of his arrival, and which called 
from him expressions of high approba- 
tion." 



CHAPTER LVHI. 

The September following I was taken 
with a slow typhoid fever, which ran 
fort}' days, by which I was left extreme- 
ly feeble, and confined me to the house 
during the winter. My sister Susan 
was with me most of the time, and the 
tedium of a slow convalescence was en- 
livened by a bevy of youthful neigh- 
bors. 

Mr. Enoch Toppan's two sons, Moses 
and Edward, and their sisters, Hannah 
and ]\Iargaret, were still at the home- 
stead. Mr. Stephen Toppan's oldest 
daughter, Mrs. Green, had returned to 
her father's house a widow, with three 



daughters and one son. Esther had 
married. Mr. William Boardman, but 
Harry, Charlotte, Nancy and Stephen 
were at home. Mr. Abner Toppan's 
oldest daughter, Sophia, had married 
Mr. Oliver Crocker and gone to New 
Bedford, Betsey and Ariana were un- 
married. Abner and Stanford lads in 
their teens, Harriet and George mere 
children. With Mrs. Reuben Jones' 
nieces, Mary and Maria Stanwood, the 
young people from these families formed 
a gay group, with whom my sister im- 
mediately became a favorite, and the 
quiet of my room was often broken by 
a ripple of girlish glee, and as I became 
stronger the young gentlemen greatly 
enjoyed droppmg in of an evening. 

In October was received the sad in- 
telligence of the death of our dearly be- 
loved cousin, Adeline Peabody. Her 
departure was not unexpected, but it 
brought an irrepressible grief, though 
we well knew that our loss was to her 
an inestimable gain. The following 
truthful and touchiug lines were written 
by a friend, a gentleman of George- 
town, D. C. : 

"LTNES 

Occasioned by tlie death of Miss Adeline 
I'eabody, a youii^ lady who died after a long 
and distressing illness at Georgetown, D. C, 
Oct. 9th, 1817, aged 19 years. 

"Knowing this, that the trial of your faith 
worketh patience; but let patience have her 
perfect woik, that ye may be peifect and en- 
tire, wanting noilnng." — St. James. 

Patience! at length thy 'perfect work' is 

done, 
And Adeline has rest among the dead ; 
Her ravished soul awakes, the eternal sun 
Burst through the clouds that gathered round 

her head. 
On eager wings the immortal spirit soars; 
Her sister angels hail her to the skies — 
Oh! glorious flight from earth's encumbering 

clay. 
From scenes where woe their consttint vigils 

keep, 
Where cares peiplex the anxious heart by day, 
And sori-ow drives from night the balm of 

sleep ! 



296 



KEMI]S"ISCEN"CES 



Yet can affection bid such worth farewell, 

As thine, sweet Adeline, without a tear. 

Or cause, in pensive tenderness, to dwell 

On virtues that thy memory endear? 

Thy love Ihut shed its ijenial warmth around, 

Tliy manners, gentle, affable and kind, 

Thy generous friendship — candor without 

bouiui, 
Thy spotless purity of heart and mind! 
O bright eusample of unsullied youth, 
O holy faith and piety sincere, 
'Twiis thine, appointed by the word of truth, 
To view the early grave without a fear; 
To see with joy the sure approach of death; 
The blessed privilege to thee was given. 
And s ime bright seraph, as he caught thy 

hreatli. 
Gave thy departing soul a glimpse of heaven." 

Grief and jo}' go band in liand. In 
the December following eonsin Ade- 
line's death nn' brother James was mar- 
ried to Miss Sarah B. Little, the second 
daughter of mN^ hnsband's uncle, Ed- 
mund Little. The bride and groom 
were second cousins. Intermarriage is 
a famih' trait amongst the Littles, which 
is likeh' to continue to the latest gener- 
ation. My brother and his bride set 
up housekeeping at the old homestead, 
as James was needed to assist his fath- 
er on the farm. 

In February Mr. Thurston Colman 
was married to Miss Nanc}' Harris. 
This 3'oung couple went to housekeep- 
ing in the house on the lower corner of 
Tyng street ; but they soon moved into 
Mr. Harris's house, on the corner of 
Toppan's lane, where he resided 
through his long life. 

As vigor did not return with spring. 
Dr. Eobinson recommended a journey 
to Saratoga. I was so feeble that many 
of the family strongly objected to so 
long a jaunt ; btit Mr. Emery was desir- 
ous for the trip. ■ 

In 1815 the sign was taken down, 
and from that time we entertained only 
the drovers, who could not dispense 
with the yards. Three of the butchers 
had left, John Pillion for Providence, 
R. I. ; Mr. Joseph Mead had married 



and settled on his father's farm, in Mer- 
edith, N. H. Mr. Colman's marriage 
left only Mr. Babb and the boy in the 
family. Betsej' Downing had gone as 
cook to a boarding-house in Boston, 
and her place had been supplied b}^ 
Betsey Diirgin, a young girl mother Col- 
man had brought up at Byfleld. Thus 
an opportunity was afforded for a short 
absence from home ; consequently prep- 
arations for the tour were commenced, 
though my strength was scarcely suffi- 
cient for the effort. Mr. Joe T. Pike 
cut and made in his best style a blue 
cloth riding-habit for the journey ; it 
was trimmed with buttons and velvet in 
the tip-top of ftishion. Aunt Bartlett's 
establishment furnished a drawn green 
silk bonnet, with a short sarsenet veil. 
This was then the genteel mode for 
traveling. We owned a handsome 
chaise ; Kate and Peacock were har- 
nessed to it tandem ; a traveling trunk, 
which had been made expressly to strap 
to the vehicle, was put in place, the 
box stowed with luggage, and on the 
morning of the second of June we turned 
our horses' heads Saratoga ward. 

Our first stop was at my Aunt Co- 
ker's. Mr. Coker had recentlj^ soldthe 
Crane Neck farm and iDurchased the 
Hooper place, on Pipestave Hill, whith- 
er the}- had removed. The Dalton 
place adjoining was then owned by 
Captain Joseph Stanwood. In the 
palmy days of Newbnryport commerce, 
the old gentleman would sit at his cham- 
ber window, spyglass in hand, watching 
for one or another of his vessels to ap- 
pear at the bar, at sight of which his 
horse was ordered, and he was in town 
to meet her at the wharf. After dining 
at my father's we rode over to the West 
parish in Haverhill to pass the night 
with my Aunt Chase. Mr. Amos Chase 



OF A I^ON^AGEI^^AIIIA^. 



297 



had some ^-ears pre^dous purchased a 
large farm there, and the house was 
merry with a fine familj- of stalwart 
boj's and handsome girls. After a most 
pleasant visit we proceeded to Pem- 
broke, and the following morning rode 
into Concord to breakfast. It chanced 
to be election da}- . Stickney's Tavern 
was thronged with the members of the 
General Court and their wives. After 
breakfast, as I was chilh', Mrs. Stick- 
ney ushered me into a back sitting- 
room, where there was a fire. My 
sanctum was soon invaded by some 
half-dozen of the elite of the New Hamp- 
shire ladies, to whom, after the early 
morning ride from their homes, the 
warmth was exceedingly grateful. Some 
of these thus accidentally thrown togeth- 
er were acquaintances ; the others were 
introduced. There were Mrs. General 
this and Mrs. Colonel that, Mrs. Judge 
and 'Squire so-and-so ; titles fairly 
rained. After the recognitions and in- 
troductions were over, all e3'es centered 
on me, and there came a dead pause ; 
then two or three of the chief dignitaries 
whispered together, after which, one 
who instituted herself spokeswoman ap- 
proached and politely inquired, "to 
which member I belonged?" I ex- 
plained that I was a sti'anger on a jour- 
ney. "You are from below?" ques- 
tioned my interlocutor. "Yes," I re- 
turned, naming \x\y place of residence. 
As I ceased speaking the group thronged 
about me. "Would I please excuse, 
but was this the newest style for riding- 
dress?" Having examined m}' habit 
and bonnet minutel3% and farther in- 
quired respecting Boston fashion, the 
conversation was abruptly ended b}' the 
entrance of Mr. Emery, accompanied 
by the respective Generals, Colonels, 
Judges and Esquires belonging to the 



fair dames, most of whom were his 
friends. Wine was brought, and after 
a merry chat we separated, the New 
Hampshu-e party to assist in the elec- 
tion ceremonies and festivities ; we to 
proceed to our friends in Boscawen, 
where we remained until the next week 
Wednesday. While there Mrs. Deacon 
Enoch Little of Little's Hill, gave a 
Little party, at which twelve were pres- 
ent, the number having been gathered 
together at a half-hour's notice. Wed- 
nesday morning we bade our Boscawen 
friends adieu, and proceeded on our 
route. The day's ride brought us to 
Newport, where we passed the night ; 
the next we slept at a countr}^ tavern 
high up amongst the mountains. Fri- 
day morning Connecticut river was 
crossed. The ferr3'man resided on the 
Vermont shore. Mr. Emery having 
blown a summons from the tin horn sus- 
pended from a post for that purpose, 
after a tedious delay a ricket}- ferry boat 
was pushed otf and rowed toward us. 
I was mortally afraid the old thing 
would sink in mid stream, but greatl}^ 
to my relief we gained terra firma in 
safet}'. That night was passed at Cas- 
tleton, at a tavern on a large farm. 
Fifteen handsome cows attracted my at- 
tention as the}^ came to the yard to be 
milked. My hostess, seeing that I was 
interested in her dairy, took me to look 
at her cheese, very large and fine ones. 
As we came back, the landlady's daugh- 
ter drew me to the open door to hear a 
whippoorwill. The child was much as- 
tonished to learn that I had heard "her 
bird," as she termed it, before. 

The next morning this little girl came 
with the request that the lady from New- 
burvport would go to her grandmother's 
room a few moments. Following my 
small guide, I entered a light, cheerful 
38 



298 



KEMLNTSCEI^CES 



apartment leading from the kitchen, 
where I found a pleasant-faced old lady 
seated in an arm-chair beside a linen 
wheel. Her knitting- work, Bible, In-mn 
book and spectacles lay on a stand near ; 
a woolen wheel stood on the other side 
of the fireplace, and in the corner oppo- 
site the bed was placed a small loom. 
To the remark "that this looked like a 
hive of industry," the old lady replied 
that she needed something to wile awa}' 
the time, and her son had fitted up this 
room for her accommodation, so that 
when tired of one occupation she could 
take another. "•They tell me 3'ou are 
from Newburyport, my dear, and I 
wished to see you, for that is the place 
where the blessed Whitefield died and 
lies buried. Of course you have visited 
his tomb?" 1 was compelled to repl}' 
in the negative, whicli greatly surprised 
the good woman. "Lived so nigh all 
your life, and never visited Whitefield's 
tomb ! Why, I allers thought if I went 
witliin forty miles of the place 1 would 
make a pilgrimage expressly to visit the 
sacred shrine. Go to see it on your re- 
turn, I beg, for m}' sake. Visit the 
dear saint's last resting place." Hav- 
ing listened to the recital of her conver- 
sion through Whitefield's preaching, 
with several anecdotes of the great re- 
vivalist, I bade the old lady good morn- 
ing, to resume my journey. In a few 
hours the state line into New York was 
crossed, and the Dutch origin of the in- 
habitants soon became apparent. The 
road, much used for drawing lumber, 
was deeply rutted, and owing to recent 
rains exceedingly muddy. During the 
morning, espying a red flag floating 
from a pole in the distance, Mr. JLmery 
drove cautiouslv forward, supposing it 
to be a signal of danger. Approaching 
a small stream, we found that the bridge 



had been swept awa}' and a part}' of 
men were then replacing it. Here was 
a dilemma ! The master builder said 
''he could get the chaise and horses 
across, but how could he manage for 
the lady?" The string pieces, timbers 
a foot and a half wide, were already 
laid. I told him if he would take my 
hand I would walk across, which I did, 
much to the admiration of my escort 
and his fellow laborers, who pronounced 
me a brave little woman. The chaise ■ 
was taken over plank put down for the <| 
purpose, and the horses having swam 
across, were again harnessed and we 
resumed our journey. Fort Ann was 
passed earl}' in the afternoon. Here 
the log causeway that had been built for 
the passage of Burgoyne's army, was 
being taken up. though one side was 
left while the other was rebuilt. For 
two miles the horses walked through 
mud reaching to their fetlocks. 

Sunda}' m<M'ning we strayed from the 
direct road into a cart path through the 
woods, which after devious picturesque 
windings, brought us into the midst of 
a cluster of white, one-story cottages, 
surrounding a neat church. Drawing 
up before the first house, a woman came 
to the door in a short, loose gown and 
petticoat, patched with various colors, 
a white cloth cap, and bare feet. To 
Mr. Emery's inquiry respecting the 
route she stammered, "I will call mine 
goot mon." "Mine goot mon" instant- 
ly appeared, smoking a short pipe. He 
expressed surprise at seeing such a 
turnout, complimented Mr. Emery upon 
his skill as a driver over the primitive 
path we had crossed, and directed us to 
follow a new rail fence across a pasture, 
whicli would return us to the main road 
without difficulty. After a drive of a 
mile it was regained, and the delay was 



OY A K^ONAGENARIAX. 



299 



not regretted, as by it we obtained a 
glimpse of what seemed a foreign coun- 
tr3^ Dinner was taken at a Dutch tav- 
ern, owned by the landlady, whose hus- 
band was a New Englander. The 
house, a large, one-story building, with 
the other appurtenances, were the acme 
of neatness ; the interior of the inn was 
as clean as scrubbing and whitewash 
could render it, but there was not a bit 
of paint or paper, nor a carpet in the 
whole premises. We had an excellent 
dinner, served in good style. The land- 
lady waited upon the table, and greath' 
amused us b}' the declaration, "that she 
had married a Yankee in preference to 
a Dutchman, the}^ were so much smart- 
er, and treated their wives with so much 
more respect." 

That afternoon we passed the Hud- 
son at Glen's Falls, one of the most pic- 
turesque of cataracts. The In-idge was 
just above the falls, and our horses 
trotted across it prett}' briskl}-, while 
we were enveloped in the spray. 

Ohio was then the El Dorado of prom- 
ise to emigrants. Quite an exodus was 
transpiring in western Vermont, and 
many were on the road. A short dis- 
tance beyond the Hudson we overtook 
a cart drawn by a yoke of oxen, loaded 
with household goods. Upon a feather 
bed sat a middle-aged woman, while 
her lord drove the patient team, and a 
barefooted girl trudged behind, driving 
a cow. Near sunset the famed water- 
ing place was reached, then a mere vil- 
lage. There were but two hotels — 
wooden buildings with stoops — though 
ever}' family was in readiness to receive 
boarders. According to advice, we 
drove to the smaller of the two hotels, 
which was kept by a Mr. Donney, who 
with his wife were natives of Connecti- 
cut. This was an excellent house, and 



Mrs. Donney was untiring in her exer- 
tions for my comfort. Being early in 
the season the place was comparatively 
empt}'. There were about a dozen 
boarders in the house, amongst whom 
was a Mr. Clark, and his stepdaughter, 
Sophia Parker, formerlj^ belonging in 
Boston, then residing at Salem, Vt. 
They were very pleasant people ; Miss 
Parker became an inseparable compan- 
ion. A Mr. Amory from Boston, an 
aged gentleman and a confirmed invalid, 
was boarding at the other hotel. He 
sent to have Mr. Emery call upon him, 
as they were originally from one stock ; 
it was the same name. 

The morning after our arrival Mr. 
Emer}' escorted me to tlie spi'ings before 
breakfast. Congress Spring was en- 
closed by a railed platform, but its sur- 
roundings were still as nature left them, 
"Round Rock" and "Flat Rock" were 
in the midst of a pasture. The whole 
village presented a barren, straggling 
appearance. I never could swallow 
more than three tumblers of the water 
at a time, but some would imbibe double 
or treble that quantity. One lad often 
boasted of regularly taking his eight 
glasses. Man}" amusing scenes were 
enacted at the springs. Such wr}' faces, 
spittings and sputterings are seldom 
witnessed. The wife of an army officer 
gave the company a deal of merriment 
by her grimaces and ejaculations. Mr. 
Emer}' could not drink the water, but 
it proved beneficial to me. 

An old lady, who with her daughter 
and son-in-law, came in a wagon from 
her home on a farm some twenty miles 
back, amused us greatlj'. She was suf- 
fering from weak eyes, and concluded 
to tr}' the efficacy of Saratoga water as 
a remedy. Declaring herself too tired 
to go to the spring, she entered the par- 



300 



EEIMINISCEJ^CES 



lor and despatched her daughter's hus- 
band with a two-quart pitcher, which 
was filled and placed on the table beside 
her, when she vigorously commenced 
the task of imbibing it. Ever}' mouth- 
ful elicited the most ludicrous grimaces, 
accompanied b}- a variet}' of odd ejacu- 
lations, "But she didn't ride twenty 
miles for nothing, you must live and 
larn ; she was determined to give that 
water a good try if it did taste like 
pisen." In a couple of hours the pitch- 
er was emptied. The water having been 
topped oli'bya hearty dinner, the dame 
remounted her wagon, which was stowed 
with an array of kegs, jugs and bottles, 
which had been filled to take home, as- 
suring us as she said good-bye, "that 
she raly believed there was something 
in that water, she felt better areadj'." 

I was interested in a party of Quak- 
ers on their l)ridal tour, who came to 
the village in a large Dutch wagon, 
which had been cleaned and furnished 
wath chairs for the accommodation of 
the bride and her sister. The chief ob- 
ject of the visit was the purchase of a 
bridal bonnet, which was brought, tried 
on, and exhibited with pride and pleas- 
ure. 1 praised the head gear, as I saw 
it was expected, though the new bonnet 
of white satin, Quaker shaped, was so 
identical with the old one, that I could 
not have told one from the other. Upon 
hinting this to the young wife, she hur- 
riedly exclaimed, "Oh, the old one is 
not fresh ; see this spot !" pointing to 
the tiniest of specks, and I came to the 
conclusion that womanly vanity and 
fondness for dress were not wholly 
smothered under the (Quaker garb. 

Emigrants to Ohio were dailj- passing 
through the village, presenting more or 
less thrift in their outfit. One wealthy 
yeoman moved his family- in a frame 



building drawn by his numerous draft 
animals, while a large drove of cattle 
and sheep brought up the rear. The 
caravan presented a singular spectacle 
as it moved slowl}' past, the smoke 
curling from the stovepipe, and the 
women l)usy at their household tasks 
within the house. 

A party of Dutch laborers stopping 
over night, ordered milk for their sup- 
per. Finding that it was sweet, they 
turned it to curd with cider. At my 
expressions of surprise at their taste, 
Mr. Donney informed me that it was 
the boast of an orderly Dutch house- 
keeper, that the bottom of her sour 
krout and bonny-clabl)er firkins were 
never visible 

The following Sunday morning we 
bade adieu to Saratoga, and commenced 
the homeward route. Not a specimen 
of the male gender was visible during 
the da3\ The Erie canal had then been 
just commenced, and every man and boy 
throughout the region, "had gone to see 
the canawl." 

Wednesday we returned to Bosca- 
wen. Friday morning the journe}- was 
resumed, home being reached Saturday 
evening, after an absence of a month. 
I came back a new person, with health 
and strength completely restored. 



CHAPTEE LIX. 

On the evening of the 19th of Decem- 
ber, 181 G, occurred the great Goodridge 
sham robbery. Major Elijah P. Good- 
ridge of Bangor, Maine, passed Pear- 
son's tavern and the Essex Merrimac 
Bridge shortly before nine o'clock. A 
little over an hour had elapsed when he 
rushed into the toll-house hatless, his 



OP A :n^on^agenaeian. 



301 



clothes soiled, one hand bloody, and in 
an excited, incoherent manner declared, 
"that he had been waylaid b,y three 
men just over the brow of the hill be- 
yond, who had beaten him over the 
head, fired at him from a pistol, wound- 
ing his hand, and having dragged him 
into the field adjoining, had there robbed 
him of a large sum of money, leaving 
him senseless ; that upon consciousness 
returning, he had made the best of his 
way back to the island." Mr. Pearson 
took the Major into the house and a 
physician was summoned. The wound- 
ed man continued to talk in a distracted 
manner of being amongst thieves and 
in a den of robbers, but at length rec- 
ognized Mr. William Potter, the driver 
of the Eastern mail stage to Ports- 
mouth, and requested him to go to the 
scene of the outrage and search for his 
horse and effects. 

Mr. Potter went, accompanied by sev- 
eral others with lanterns. Jilst over 
the brow of the hill a pistol was found 
in the road ; a rail was down in the 
fence, and in the gap a few drops of 
blood were seen. Major Goodridge's 
pocketbook la}' open under the fence, 
with his watch, knife and papers ; a rod 
beyond his portmanteau, valise and 
whip were found, and thirty-sijc dollars 
in bank notes ; the handle of the whip 
was also . spotted with blood. The 
search for the horse proved fruitless, 
but Major Samuel Shaw, coming from 
Hampton with a baggage wagon belong- 
ing to the Stage Company, soon after 
passing the bridge, found that a stray 
horse was following his team, which he 
kept behind down High and State 
streets to the stable at Oilman's hotel. 
This stra}' horse was the missing ani- 
mal. 

Dr. Carter of Amesburv dressed the 



wounded hand, The patient talked 
wildl}', and appeared in a deranged 
slate, complaining of excruciating pain 
in his side and in the back of his head. 
Doctor Israel Balch was present with 
Dr. Carter. The Major was put in bed 
and Dr. Carter remained with him till 
morning ; he was then apparently so 
delirious that Mr. Pearson called Dr. 
Richard S. Spofford. That afternoon 
he was taken to the residence of Mr. 
John Pearson, in Newburyport. He 
fainted on the way, and continued de- 
lirious for two or three daj's, when he 
gradually grew better, and after a while 
was able to go to Dan vers, where his 
friends resided. 

This aflEtiir caused a furor of excite- 
ment. People feared to travel alone 
after nightfall. There was a great de- 
mand for sword canes, and a strict 
watch was instituted for three suspi- 
cious individuals. Upon his recovery 
Major Goodridge stated, "that at the 
time of the robbery he had upon his 
person and in his portmanteau $1086 
in bank notes and $669 in gold belong- 
ing to himself; in addition, he had 
money sent by him to pay over from 
three to five hundred dollars. One 
hundred and twenty was paid at Free- 
port, thirty dollars he left in the post- 
office at Dover to go to Rochester, the 
remainder was to be paid in Newbury- 
port." 

As the gentleman's character was un- 
impeachable, and he ranked amongst 
the first in business circles, it was diffi- 
cult to question his veracity, still, 
doubts respecting his story were whis- 
pered. At the intelligence, Mr. Emery 
went directl}' to the bridge. He said 
little on his return, onl}- declared it a 
most singular robber}'. As some wrap- 
pers to the gold bearing Major Good- 



302 



REMrNTSCEN^CES 



ridge's mark were picked up near Pear- 
son's tavern, the Major caused Mr. 
Ebenezer Pearson, tlie inn-keeper, to 
be arrested, but as no proof of guilt 
was found he was immediatel}' acquit- 
ted. About a week after, Major Good- 
ridge having obtained the presence of 
Deputy Sheriff Jacob Coburn, and ac- 
companied b}' one Swinnerton, of Dan- 
vers, with a divining rod, commenced 
a searcli of the premises on Deer Island. 
After a time a bundle of soiled and torn 
papers belonging to Major Goodridge 
were taken from the vault of the privy, 
and six pieces of gold wrapped in a 
cloth were thrown from the snow back 
of the house. 

Mr. Pearson was a second time ar- 
rested, only to be acquitted with the 
heaitiest acclamation. The old gentle- 
man, then seventy years of age, had 
ever been one of our most respected and 
esteemed citizens, and the indignation 
of the populace had been aroused at 
what was deemed an outrage upon one 
of Mr. Pearson's age and social stand- 
ing. At his acquittal this second time 
the enthusiasm of the crowd assembled 
at the court house could scarceh' be ex- 
pressed. Amid hilarious shouts the old 
gentleman was placed in a coach, which 
as it was good sleighing was upon run- 
ners ; the horses were unharnessed in a 
twinkling, and a band of young men 
drew Mr. Pearson the whole distance to 
his residence, the procession being aug- 
mented by a long line of friends in 
sleighs. 

Hearing the huzzas, I ran to a win- 
dow commanding a view down High 
street. What was coming I could not 
divine ; but on a nearer approach I de- 
scried Mr. Pearson. The old gentle- 
man was affected to tears ; and he ear- 
nestly strove to prevent this ovation ; 



but it would have been as easy to have 
stayed a whirlwind. Altogether it was 
a most unique scene, a demonstration 
to worth which was long remembered. 

A person named Taber, and two 
brothers, Levi and Laban Kenniston, 
were next arrested. Taber had been 
to Berwick 1 and was known to have 
been on the road about the time of the 
robbery. Some one hinted a suspicion 
against him, which Major Goodridge 
eagerly grasped. 

The landlord of the Dexter House 
and his son gave the clue to the Ken- 
nistons' arrest. The afternoon prior to 
the supposed robber^" the brothers sta- 
bled their horse at the tavern. They 
next inquired of the landlord's son, Mr. 
Samuel R. Caldwell, if they could have 
lodging, and at what hour the house 
was closed, then went out, saying they 
would take a walk. About seven 
o'clock that evening Mr. Sam Caldwell 
saw them near the house in earnest con- 
versation with a man he did not know. 
They did not return that night, but the 
next morning came into the stable and 
inquired if their horse bad been watered ; 
they then unhasped a door and went 
down under the stable. Mr. Caldwell 
watched them from a hole in the floor. 
About an hour after the oldest brother 
went into the house. At breakfast there 
was much talk about the robbery. Levi 
said, "Well, I am glad I wa'nt there." 
This farther aroused Mr. Caldwell's sus- 
picion, and he asked the pair where they 
had passed the night. They replied, 
''at Mr. Ephraim Titcomb's cellar." 
Upon this information, after the guests' 
departure, Mr. Sam Caldwell went to 
inquire of Mr. Titcomb respecting the 
strangers. Mr. Titcomb knew the Ken- 
nistons, they were at his cellar the af- 
ternoon before the robber}-. Laban had 



or A NONAGEI^'AIIIAIN'. 



303 



just come from jail, and had no money ; 
he owed Mi-. Titcomb for board, and 
left his bundle for security till he should 
pay. Levi had a turkey ; he said he 
had no money and could not pay his 
brother's bill. The evening of the rob- 
bery the}' were in and out ; after supper, 
not far from seven o'clock, they went 
out together with one M'Intire, and 
were gone till past ten o'clock. The 
following morning Mr, Titcomb told 
Levi that his brother could not go away 
until his bill was paid. Levi told Mr. 
Titcomb to take the turkey ; he then 
took out a new bill of the Newburyport 
Bank, a two or three dollar bill, and 
Mr. Titcomb took out what Laban owed. 

Mr. Caldwell, never suspecting but 
that there had been a bona-fide robber^', 
considered it his dut}' to inform Mr. 
John Pearson, at whose house iVIajor 
Goodridge was then stopping, respect- 
ing these to him suspicious individuals. 

On the 4th of February, Maj. Good- 
ridge with a party of friends, having 
obtained the services of Samuel T. 
Leavitt, adeput}' sheriff in New Hamp- 
shire, proceeded to arrest Levi and La- 
ban Kenniston, and to search their res- 
idence, which was at the dwelling of 
their father. Money in small sums was 
found in various places in the house. 
This was claimed bj" different members 
of the family. After a strict search 
two doubloons were unearthed in the cel- 
lar, under a pork barrel. One of these 
was enclosed in a wrapper which bore a 
mark which Major Goodridge claimed 
to have put upon it in Bangor, and a 
ten dollar bill of the Boston Bank, 
found in a drawer, which Major Leavitt 
thought was counterfeit. Major Good- 
ridge also claimed it, showing his own 
handwriting ou the back, which looked 



as though an attempt had been made 
to erase it. 

The circumstantial evidence was so 
strong against the brothers Kenniston 
that they were held for trial, as was also 
the man named Taber. 

Mr. Joseph Jackman of Newbury- 
port, left town for New York on busi- 
ness, about a week after the robbery. 
Major Goodridge expressed his suspi- 
cions of him, and engaged Mr. John 
Pearson and his son to write to their 
friends in New York to have Mr, Jack- 
man watched. He next proceeded to 
New York, and obtained the assistance 
of a marshal of the city, a Mr, Hoyt, to 
search Jackman' s room, when some 
wrappers of gold which Major Good- 
ridge claimed as bearing his mark, were 
found loose upon the floor, with some 
old rubbish and papers. 

On Tuesday, April 4th, 1817, Taber 
and the brothers Kenniston were brought 
to trial at the Supreme court holden at 
Ipswich, before Hon. Samuel Putnam. 
Samuel L. Knapp, esq., was counsel 
for Tabor. Daniel Webster then re- 
cently admitted to the bar, and the Hon. 
Joseph Bartlett were counsel for the 
Kennistons. A motion was made by 
Mr. Knapp that Tabor might be tried 
severally, which was granted. On 
Thursday' morning the trial of the Ken- 
nistons conmienced. 

Major Goodridge testified to what he 
had previously stated. "While at Al- 
fred, while his baggage was being taken 
in to the inn, a person entered who said 
he was going into the country ; this man 
he has since had reason to suppose was 
Taber." 

"After he went to Dan vers he was 
endeavoring to pick up every circum- 
stance that might be a clue to the rob- 
bery. There he had the first notice 



304 



iiEM]:N'iscEi;rcEs 



about Taber from John Page, who re- 
ferred him to one M'Kinstry for a more 
particular description ; met M'Kinstry 
at Breed's in Lynn, who particuUirlj- 
described Taber, and told him he might 
be found in Boston, and advised witness 
to arrest him b^' all means, as he had 
made up his mind that he was guilt}'. 
After being in Boston two or three da3's, 
witness went out to find Taber ; met 
with him there near Boj'den's, a little 
west of the market, offering some hair 
combs to a person ; judged it was he 
from description ; he had a mark a 
scar under his eye ; inquired if his 
name was Taber ; he said ^'es ; asked 
him to step into the house ; he declined 
and proposed going back into the yard. 
Witness inquired of Tabor whether he 
was acquainted with the people about 
the bridge ; Tabor said he could point 
out the robbers, that he had formed his 
opinion who thej- were. Pressed him 
hard to disclose ; he said if he should 
tell what he knew about it, it would be 
more than his life was worth, those per- 
sons would kill him. Before parting- 
he said he would for three hundred dol- 
lars tell all he knew, Init did not say 
how much that was. Witness then 
went to Mr. French, who was to furnish 
the money and consulted with him ; had 
agreed to meet Taber at a place ap- 
pointed on the Monday following ; Ta- 
ber did not keep his engagement, and 
avoided meeting the witness ; was there 
advised b}' his friends to disguise him- 
self, which he did in the dress of a sail- 
or, and went in the evening with Capt. 
Silsbee and Mr. Jones to find Taber ; 
after finding him and conversing with 
him alone, he consented to give the 
names of those who had committed the 
robbery for four hundred dollars, and 
trusted to the honor of the witness to 



paj- if the information should prove true ; 
witness then went to consult Silsbee and 
Jones ; afterAvards went to Tabor, and 
he gave the names of a number of per- 
sons who had been concerned in the 
robber}' ; he said the prisoners were two 
of them, and now had part of the money 
if the}- had not spent it ; told where 
the}^ resided. Witness thought it best 
to begin the investigation with the pris- 
oners, as they were the least artful ; 
went on to Danvers with Mr. French ; 
informed Mr. Page, who consented to 
go and assist in searching the Kenuis- 
tons ; French and witness then went on 
to Hampton, and remained concealed at 
Langmaid's ; sent for Mr. John Pike 
and employed him to go to Newmarket 
and ascertain whether the Kennistons 
were at home ; after he returned, got a 
warrant, sent for Major Leavitt, a good 
officer, and earl}- in the morning went 
with him and Mr. Towle and arrested 
the Kennistons at their house. After 
securing the prisoners, proceeded to 
make a thorough search through the 
whole house ; found some gold ; heard 
Major Leavitt say he had found a coun- 
terfeit bill in a drawer in a room at the 
north part of the house ; witness had not 
been in that room before Major Leavitt 
went in. After finishing the search 
they went with the prisoners to JNIajor 
Coffin's house, about three miles. There 
Major Leavitt took out of his pocket- 
book a ten-dollar Boston bill which the 
JMajor had thought counterfeit. On ex- 
amining it witness saw the writing on 
the back of it, "James Poor, Bangor," 
and knew the bill ; it was a good one ; 
there appeared to have been an attempt 
to erase the writitig." 

Major Goodridge said "he had the 
bill with him when he was robbed ; knew 
it by the words on the back of it in his 



OF A I^OlS^AGElSrATlIAN. 



305 



own handwriting ; received it about a 
week before he left Bangor ; never saw 
it after he enclosed it with his other 
bills in a piece of cambric handkerchief 
till he saw it at Major Coffin's." 

The search at the Kennistons contin- 
ued a long time before an^'thing except 
the counterfeit bill and some parcels of 
silver money were found ; witness hap- 
pening to open a door, saw a bo}' and 
girl climbing on a bed ; the}- started 
when they saw him ; he called the offi- 
cer, and told him he had better search 
the bed ; Majors Coffin, Upton and 
Goodridge went in, saw a pair of pan- 
taloons hanging up over the bed, which 
the bo}- and girl seemed to be aiming 
at ; took the pantaloons down and 
found in them some silver and a doub- 
loon without any paper on it ; this gave 
new spirits, and the search was contin- 
ued more closely ; some were searching 
in the cellar ; took down the loose stones 
of the wall, dug in the sand at the bot- 
tom, turned over the potatoes and 
moved the barrels. Upton suddenly 
called and said, 'Here, I have found 
the whole hoard !' and showed a doub- •! 
loon which he had scratched up where 
a pork barrel had stood. Maj. Leavitt 
picked up another ; one of the doub- 
loons had a wrapper with witness' fig- 
ures on it, which he made at Bangor. 
By this time the neighbors had collect- 
ed, and helped search the house criti- 
cally ; searched it throughout ; nothing- 
else material was found except a quan- 
tity of silver dollars in a tin dish, in a 
case of drawers ; thinks from twenty to 
forty, but did not count them — the pris- 
oners said the money was not theirs. 
The prisoners were carried before a 
magistrate. Some time after, some of 
the wrappers of the gold with the wit- 
ness' figures were found at Mr. Pear- 

39 



son's, at the bridge, in a vault of the 
privj", some of them very much defaced ; 
some also were found at New York with 
Joseph Jackman, and a receipt torn up 
small ; could identif}' one with his own 
name and the name of the receipter, 
Thomas Curtis, of Boston, which he 
had about him when robbed ; before he 
left Bangor put up his papers and took 
many receipts for the purpose of settling 
with people in Boston ; had left the 
pieces of papers at New York with the 
police officer ; Jackman was one named 
by Taber, and in consequence of that 
information he had arrested Jackman." 

It was proved that Taber returned 
from his journey to Berwick, and had 
been incarcerated in the jail in Boston 
for debt on the 12th of December, and 
though he obtained hail for liberty of 
the jail yard, he was confined within 
the jail limits at the time of the alleged 
robbery. Accordingl}- the Solicitor 
General entered a nolle pros on indict- 
ment against Taber, and he was sworn 
as a witness. 

Taber testified "that this was the 
first time he ever saw Major Goodridge 
except at the examination in Newbury- 
port. No person ever came to him in 
disguise in Boston, and he never had 
seen the Kennistons till that day." 

William Jones of Boston testified that 
"he was present when Major Goodridge 
conversed with a man who was under- 
stood to be Taber ; he was dressed in a 
light surtout." It was proved that Ta- 
ber did not own and had never wQrn 
such a garment. 

The silver and paper money were ac- 
counted for by Aaron Kenniston, the 
father of the prisoners ; he had no gold 
in the house. He gave Levi the two- 
dollar bill, out of which he settled with 



306 



REMD^^ISCEI^^CES 



Mr. Titcomb when his son went to 
Newburyport. 

It was proved that Major Goodridge 
was in the cellar at the Kenniston's 
taking down the wall, when the gold 
was found under the barrel, and Sherifi" 
Upton thought that Major Goodridge 
first called attention to the pantaloons 
where the first doubloon was found ; 
but Major Leavitt thought Major Good- 
ridge had not entered the room where 
he found the marked bill. 

Doctor Israel Balch was present with 
Dr. Carter. "He observed when he 
looked at the patient the patient looked 
awa}^ ; he saw no wounds on his head 
or side ; the pupils of his eyes were di- 
lated a little, thought it might be owing 
to the darkness of the room ; thought 
he was not deranged but playing the 
crazy man. He said he could not move 
himself in bed, but when he thought he 
was alone, the Doctor saw him rise up, 
place his earlocks and forelock in order, 
throw out his right arm, expectorate 
and spit in the fire. Hearing a noise, 
he laid down, covered himself up, and 
began to talk incoherently'." 

David Lawrence testified that he was 
at Mrs. IMartin's, in company with Jo- 
seph Jackman, from 7 to 9 o'clock, on 
the evenmg of the 19th of December. 
Mrs. Ann Martin and Miss Fanny 
Griflin corroborated this statement. 

The examination closed at 10 o'clock 
on Friday morning. Mr. Webster's ar- 
gument for the prisoners, and that of 
the Solicitor General for the common- 
wealth, with the charge of the judge, 
was closed about 5 o'clock in the after- 
noon. On Saturday morning, at the 
opening of the court, a verdict of not 
guilty was returned, and the prisoners 
were discharged. 

Though Mr. Joseph Jackman proved 



his^presence at the house of his neigh- 
bor Mrs. Martin, on the night of the 
19th of December, as the wrappers and 
torn receipt were taken from his room 
in New York, he was brought to trial 
at Salem November, 1817. Andrew 
Dunlap esq., of Salem, and Ebenezer . 
Mosely esq., of Newbur^'port, were his 
counsel. At this trial the jury could 
not agree, and the case was a second 
time brought up at the April term. • 
The indictment read as follows : 

"At .the Supreme Judicial Court of 
the Commonwaelth of Massachusetts, 
begun and holden at Ipswich, within 
and for the said county of Essex, on the 
4th Tuesday of April, in the 3'ear of 
our Lord one thousand eight hundred 
and eighteen, the jurors 'for the said 
Commonwealth, upon their oath, pres- 
ent, that Joseph Jackman, resident in 
Newburyport, in said count}' of Essex, 
trader, on the nineteenth da}' of Decem- 
ber, 1816, at Newbury, in the said 
county of Essex, neither was with force 
of arms, nor with force and violence, 
but Elijah P. Goodridge, M'ith force and 
violence, shot his own hand with his 
own pocket pistol without the least 
doubt, then passed the village, for the 
place is now called Shamhill, and Essex 
Merrimac Bridge. Then E. P. Good- 
ridge threw the same pistol into the 
river ; that must be his object in going- 
over to Mr. Pearson's, he could not 
have any other object. Elijah P. Good- 
ridge, in the said peace of the said Com- 
monwealth, then and there being, felon- 
iously did put sundry bank bills to the 
amount of $36 in the field ; and laid 
some small change, and one or more 
pieces of gold, and a very new gold 
watch carefully placed under the fence 
— all was supposed to have been done 
by the hand of said Elijah. There Eh- 



OF A NONAGEWAEIAN^. 



307 



jah P. Goodridge did rob himself against 
the said peace of tlie said Common- 
wealth, and contrary to the form of the 
statute in such case made and provided." 

Thursday morning at ten o'clock the 
jury were empaneled for the trial. The 
jurors were Stephen Barker, Andover, 
foreman ; David Emery, Newburj^ ; Gib- 
bins Adams, Newbury ; James Darling, 
Beverly ; Nathaniel Hawkes, Saugus ; 
Joseph Tufts, Danvers ; James Abbot, 
Andover ; Benjamin Hawes, Salem ; 
Amos Burnham, Ipswich ; Benjamin 
Foster, Manchester ; Jacob Greenleaf, 
Newburyport ; the judge, Hon. Charles 
Jackson, counsel for the Common- 
wealth; Hon. Daniel JJavis, solicitor 
general; counsel for the prisoner, Hon. 
Daniel Webster, Boston ; Ebenezer 
Moseley esq., Newbur^^port ; Andrew 
Dunkip esq., Salem. 

The excitement, which from its com- 
mencement this remarkable incident had 
aroused, had at this time become in- 
tense. Mr. Jackman had hosts of 
friends, and the s^^mpathy of the com- 
munit^^ but Major Goodridge also pos- 
sessed many friends, who would not for 
a moment entertain the idea that he 
could have perpetrated such a tremen- 
dous fraud as a sham robber}-. 

Major Goodridge reiterated his for- 
mer statement of the robbery, and of 
his finding the wrappers and receipt in 
Jackman's room. The papers were pro- 
duced and exemplified. Jackman claimed 
the papers as his. Major Goodridge 
had stated that he drew the chai'ge from 
his pistols every da\' on his journey. 
Webster called for the pistols and in- 
quired for the old ramrods that were in 
them at the time of the Kennistons' trial- 
The Major replied that they were worn 
out and broken. Webster then inquired 
what had become of the worms or screws 



that were on the old rods. The reply 
was, "There was none." At which 
Webster exclaimed, "Do you undertake 
to say that 3'ou drew the charges ever}' 
day on your journej^ without a worm or 
screw !" Goodridge was at a loss what 
to say, but at length replied, "he be- 
lieved there was a screw on one of the 
rods. He bought the pistols eight or 
nine years ago ; for the last three years 
no one had seen them, as he feared per- 
sons would borrow them to fight duels." 
This was disproved by Mr. Eleazer 
Wyer of Portland, who testified to sell- 
ing Major (lOodridge the pistols while 
he was stopping at Burnham's Hotel on 
his journey from Bangor. The remain- 
der of the witness' testimon}' was sim- 
ilar to that at the Kennistons' trial. 
The examination of witnesses over, Mr. 
Webster commenced his address to the 
jury. This was one of his most master- 
ly' efforts, one which those who were 
present always referred to with pride 
and admiration. He proved that it was 
impossible for either of the accused par- 
ties to have been on the spot at the 
time of the alleged robbery. The two 
wagons driven l)y Shaw and Keyser, 
and the mail stage, must have passed 
within three rods of Goodridge at the 
time he describes the robbery was tak- 
ing place. The bullet went through 
the sleeve of his coat. He might in- 
tend it should have gone through noth- 
ing else. It was quite certain he could 
not have received the wound in his hand 
in the wa}?^ he described. There was 
not the least mark of beating and 
wounding. The blow on the head which 
brought him senseless to the ground 
neither broke the skin nor left any mark 
whatever. He fell from his horse on 
frozen ground, without any appearance 
of injur}'. He was drawn through or 



308 



KEMINISCEK'CES 



over a rail fence with such force as to 
break the rail, but not at all to leave 
an^' wound or scratch on him. A sec- 
ond time he was knocked down, kicked, 
stamped upon, choked, and in everj^ 
way abused and beaten till sense had 
departed and the breath of life hardly- 
remained, and yet no wound, bruise, 
or discoloration, or mark of injur3% was 
found to result from all this. Look to 
the appearance of the field. The port- 
manteau was there, the straps which 
fastened it to the saddle were carefully 
unbuckled. This was very considerate 
for robbers. It had been opened and 
its contents were scattered about the 
field. The pocketbook, too, had been 
opened, and many papers it contained 
scattered on the ground. Nothing val- 
uable was lost but money, and the 
money belonging to other persons was 
not taken ; the robbers found out that 
it was not the prosecutor's and left it. 
His watch was safe under the fence, the 
seal laid carefully on tlie grass ; the 
timekeeper had not even ceased ticking. 
Had Major Goodridge the money with 
him that he mentions ? If so, his clerks 
or persons connected with him in busi- 
ness must have known it, 3'et no wit- 
ness was produced. Nothing could be 
more important than to prove that he 
had the money, 3'et he did not prove it. 
Fixing his eyes upon the prisoner with 
a glance that caused him to quail with 
conscious guilt, Mr. Webster ended this 
memorable harangue by a burst of elo- 
quence scarce^ equalled in the annals 
of jurisprudence . 

The case was closed, and the jury re- 
tired the latter part of the afternoon. 
Eleven were unanimous for the verdict 
of no robberj' ; Mr. Hawkes of Saugus 
alone [dissented. The evidence was 
conned and discussed until a late hour, 



but without avail. Provoked and weary, 
the eleven at length desisted from far- 
ther argument, and several lighted ci- 
gars. Tobacco smoke was annoying to 
Mr. Hawkes — seeing its effect, the ma- 
jority caught the cue : ever3' one took a 
cigar ; a fresh box of Havanas were or- 
dered, and soon the room was suffocat- 
ing. The obstinate juror begged hard 
for air, but not a breath was admitted. 
"Would he unite on the verdict?'' 
"No." Puff, puff, went the cigars, I 
believe one of the gentlemen managed 
to smoke two at once. The air grew 
chokingly- dense ; tears rose to the smok- 
ers' eyes. Mr. Emery said he could 
not have borne it much longer himself, 
when the obstinate dissenter succumbed, 
fairly smoked into acquiescence. Win- 
dows were thrown open, and the jaded 
men refreshed themselves by a bath and 
breakfast. The court opened at the 
usual hour when the verdict was ren- 
dered. 

Thus ended the great Goodridge case, 
one that had caused more distress and 
expense than scarcely" an^- other upon 
record. For a time it destroj'ed the 
happiness of several households ; inno- 
cent men were held in durance, and at 
the Jackman trial in Salem one of the 
jurors lost his life. A tumbler was 
l:)roken on a tray of refreshments 
broxight from the hotel to the court- 
house, and the unfortunate man swal- 
lowed a piece of the glass, which sev- 
ered the jugular -vein, causing death in 
a short time. 

The only plea in extenuation for 
Major Goodridge is that in those daj's 
a failure in business was much more of 
a disgrace than at present. "Being 
broke," was something difficult to sur- 
mount. Finding himself in a financial 
dilemma, the Major concocted this plan 



OF A N■ON■AGE:^^AEIA:N'. 



m 



to settle his affairs ; but he overshot the 
mark. I beUeve he went South ; ])ut 
wherever his sojourn, he must have been 
the victim of remorse, for tire fatal mis- 
take that ruined his worldly career. 

Immediatel3' after the verdict of a 
sham robbery had been rendered, a gib- 
bet was erected on the hill where it had 
been represented to have occurred, and 
Major Goodridge was hung in efligj. 
This gibbet remained many years, but 
at length fell to pieces from the decay 
of age. 



CHAPTER LX. 

On March 31st, 1818, the Essex Ag- 
ricultural vSociety was formed ; it was 
incorporated on June 12th. Mr. Em- 
er}- was among those who formed this 
society, his certificate of membership 
reads : 

"Eeceived payment b}' the hand of 
Robert Dodge, the assessment of three 
dollars, for the Essex Agricultural So- 
ciet}' for David Emer}'. 

IcHABOD Tucker, Treasurer. 

May 6th, 1818." 

Both Col. Colman and Major Emer}' 
were enthusiastic and untiring in for- 
warding the concerns of this society, 
and both were active on duty at its an- 
nual cattle' shows, until failing health 
and the infirmities of age prevented ; 
but to the latest hour of their long lives 
their interest in the advancement of the 
society was maintained ; that society 
which in company with kindred spirits 
they had formed, when the improve- 
ment of stock, and science as applied 
to agriculture, had scarcety attracted a 
thought throughout our rural commun- 
ity ; a band of men whose memor}' Es- 
sex count}^ may recall with pride, all of 
whom have now passed to the green 



pastures and still waters of the celestial 
land. 

The following winter our family circle 
was enlivened b}- the presence of Uncle 
Samuel Smith, who with his wife came 
to pay a farewell visit prior to their em- 
igration to Ohio. 

My grandmother had died suddenly 
the September previous. Though Mr. 
Smith had become a distinguished 
preacher of the Methodist circuit, his 
mother never tolerated his change of 
faith. I could not but rejoice that she 
had gone to rest without being disqui- 
eted by this Western scheme. 

Uncle Sam was enthusiastic in the 
prospect of sowing the seed of truth in 
the new country now being fast re- 
claimed from the wilderness, and his 
M'ife was as hopeful and ambitious for 
her husband and famih' as she had been 
on their removal to Vermont. After a 
sojourn of several weeks, they bade 
their New England relatives and friends 
a final adieu, for though both lived to 
an advanced age. neither ever revisited 
their birthplace. That spring the fam- 
ih' became located on a farm upon the 
Little Sciota river, not far from Chili- 
cothe. 

In the April of 1818 Mr. Joshua Pills- 
bury came from Boscawen and assumed 
the care of his ancestral acres, being 
the seventh in descent from William 
Pillsbury, who came to Newbury in 
1651. AVe moved to the house on the 
lower side of High street, second above 
Kent, which had been built by Mr. 
William Swain, but was then owned by 
Mr. Abner Wood. Mr. Emer^' hired 
the field opposite, to which his slaugh- 
ter-house and piggeries were drawn. 
In a few weeks he purchased this lot of 
Mr. Allen Dodge and Mr. Joseph Top- 
pan for $500. 



310 



REMrNTSCE]SrCES 



The next year he erected a large barn 
npon the hill. In addition to the usual 
appliances of a stable, a chimney was 
built at the lower end, and a room light- 
ed by three windows was finished. This 
apartment had a fireplace, a large set 
kettle, and a good sized closet ; a trap 
door opened upon stairs leading to the 
cellar beneath, in which was a wooden 
cistern, a pump above furnishing tlie 
premises with water. This room was 
for the convenience of packing beef and 
trj'ing lard, two branches of business in 
which Mr. Emery was large 1}' engaged. 
Mr. Babb was still our factotum. John 
Faris and Mr. Michael Crease}' were 
the regular butchers, but Mr. Paul Lunt 
of Belleville, Mr. Stephen Emerj" and 
his son Moody, and Mr. Jonas Bartlett 
from the lower parish in West New- 
bury, were often employed. Not un- 
frequently from fifteen to twenty hands 
were at work, and as many as twentj- 
beeves' carcases would be weighed off 
at once. The field below the buildings 
was fenced for a sheep pasture ; a hun- 
dred head were often collected there. 
Three wagons were run to sni)ply town 
customers, the barreled beef and pork 
supplied the fishing fleet and outward- 
bound vessels, and the surplus was sold 
in Boston. 

In 1822 Mr. Creasey having estab- 
lished himself in business, his place was 
filled by Mr. Henry Mowatt. That 
spring, m}' youngest brother, Joseph 
Little Smith, came to Newburyport,''and 
in company' with Mr. Emery established 
a wholesale and retail grocery store on 
Market square, at the upper corner of 
Inn street. This was the depot for 
Mr. Emery's beef and pork trade. My 
brother boarded in our fiimih'. 

There were a numl)er of fruit trees 
on the lot Mr. Emery had bought ; he 



planted others, and the ehn back of the 
house, and commenced other improve- 
ments preparatory to the erection of a 
house. The elm near the barn was set 
out several years after by Robert Pea- 
body while an inmate of the family. 
The next jea,Y he purchased the field 
between his lot and Mount Rural. This 
had formed part of the estate of the late 
Daniel Farnham esq., by whom it had 
been bequeathed to his daughters, Mrs. 
Sybil Sawyer and Mrs. Catharine Flag, 
who sold it to Mr. Emery for $650. 

"Squire Farnham had formerl}- owned 
the whole of that end of the ridge. 
The first wife of Dr. Smith of Mt. Ru- 
ral was another of his daughters. In 
1820, b}' the death of his father, my 
husband's namesake, David Emery Col- 
man, a boy of six years, was left an or- 
phan. Mr. I^mery took him into the 
family ; he was a handsome, bright lit- 
tle lad, and he remained with us till his 
twelfth 3'ear, when he was put on the 
farm of Mr. Thomas Chase in West 
Newbur}'. 

In May, 1819, my Aunt Bartlett was 
married to Capt. Joseph O'Brian. Cap- 
tains Joseph and John O'Brian were of 
Irish descent, their father emigrated to 
America and settled in Machias, dis- 
trict of Maine. Both of the sons were 
successful shipmasters and merchants. 
Capt. John O'Brian, as I have previ- 
ousl}- stated, distinguished himself in 
the privateer Hibernia during the war 
of 1812. Capt. John O'Brian married 
Hannah Toppan ; their children were 
Jeremiah, John, Hannali and Marcia 
Scott. Hannah became the third wife 
of her cousin Joseph O'Brian. Marcia 
married Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Chaplin, 
president of Waterville College, Maine. 
Both of these ladies were authors of 
some celebrity. 



OF A no:n'AGe:n'Arian. 



311 



John O'Brian Chaplin was professor 
of Greek, Latin and English literatnre 
at Columbian College, Washing. ton, D 
C. Hannah Chaplin married Rev. 
Thomas Jefferson Conant of Brandon, 
Vt., emplo3'ed by the American Bible 
Union of New York, in translating the 
Bible ; professor in Bochester Uiiiver- 
sit3' until 1857 ; formerl}' professor at 
Waterville and at Madison University. 

Captain Joseph O'Brian's first wife 
was Rebecca, daughter of David and 
Mary (Johnson) Moody. Their chil- 
dren were David, William, and others 
deceased before 1812 — Dennis, Joseph, 
Thomas and Valeria. 

The O'Brians were of a highly distin- 
guished race, a great Milesian family- 
of the name who descended from the 
Kings of Thomond. Arms, Gules, three 
lions proper, or. Crest, a naked arm 
embowered, the hand grasping a sword 
all ppr. Motto — '•'•Vigueur dev des- 
sus." "Strength from above." 

Capt. Joseph O'Brian having lost his 
residence on Water street at the great 
fire, had purchased the house on High 
street, built b}" Capt. Samuel Swett, 
who had moved to Georgetown, D. C. 
As the Baptist meeting-house was lo- 
cated so far to the north end, Capt. 
O'Brian, being a zealous Jacobin, had 
taken a pew in the house of worship on 
Harris street. For many years Mrs. 
Bartlett had been connected with the 
First Presbyterian church, and she high- 
h' respected and esteemed its pastor, 
the Rev. Dr. Dana ; but for some rea- 
son Capt. O'Brian objected to his per- 
forming the marriage ceremony. Mrs. 
Bartlett was equall}" averse to Parson 
Giles. After much discussion the pair 
agreed to disagree, and the Rev. Dr. 
Morse was called to tie the nuptial knot 
according to the ritual of the Episcopal 



church. Mrs. O'Brian, however, like 
a dutiful wife, ever after attended on 
Parson Giles' ministrations with her 
husband and famil}'. 

In the spring of this year the west 
part of Newbury was set off into a sep- 
arate township, and incorporated by 
the name of Parsons, which was soon 
changed to that of West Newbur}'. 

In the same year Col. Jeremiah Col- 
man succeeded Mr. Benjamin Hale as 
agent for the Eastern Stage Compan}", 
an office which he filled until the open- 
ing of the Eastern railroad. Soon after 
accepting the agency Col. Colman pur- 
chased the house built by Mr. Obadiah 
Pearson, on Harris street, and moved 
thither. The business at the market 
was continued b}- Mr. Daniel Colman, 
who bought the residence on the turn- 
pike, where he became a prominent cit- 
izen of Newbury, and an influential 
member of Oldtown parish. For many 
years he was a selectman of the town, 
one of the overseers of the poor, and 
the superintendent of the Sabbath school 
connected with the societ}', under the 
pastorate of the Rev. Dr. Withington. 
In addition he was often called to fill 
posts of trust and honor outside of his 
town and parish. The latter part of 
his life was passed on the ancestral 
farm in Byfield. Col. Jeremiah Colman 
was also an active member of the Old- 
town society, filling the office of deacon 
for several years. 

The next year, 1820, the navigation 
law was passed, which restricted ves- 
sels from taking cargoes to the British 
colonies, and from bringing cargoes to 
our ports. As Newburyport had a' 
large eastern trade, this proved ex- 
tremely injurious to our shipping inter- 
est. In addition, the exorbitant duties 
imposed by France and other conti- 



312 



kemin'isce:n'ces 



nental nations on American goods and 
tonnage greatly depressed tlie maritime 
enterprise of tlie place. 

Capt. John Murray Miltimore, the 
3'oungest son of the Rev. James Milti- 
more, at this time commanded the ship 
Jane. On arriving at Bordeaux from 
Norfolk, to his consternation he learned 
that a duty of $18 per ton had been 
imposed, an amount ^\hich the full val- 
ue of l)oth vessel and cargo would 
scarcely cover. In. this dilemma Capt. 
Miltimore proceeded immediateh' to 
Paris to lay the case before the Ameri- 
can consul, and Mr. Albert Gallatin, 
our minister to the Court of St. Cloud. 
The matter was carried before the gov- 
ernment, and the duty on Capt. JNIilti- 
more's ship was removed and the law 
greatl}' modified. That same year a 
piratical fleet appeared in the West In- 
dian waters, which for several years 
continued the terror of the sea. 

The winter of 1820 and 1821 was re- 
markably cold. The river was passa- 
ble for the heaviest teams on the ice 
from Haverhill to Black Rocks. China 
cups cracked on the tea table from the 
frost, before a rousing fire, the instant 
the hot tea touched them ; and plates 
set to drain in the process of dish- wash- 
ing froze together in front of the huge 
logs, ablaze in the wide kitchen fire- 
place. 

That spring has been rendered mem- 
orable from its incendiary fires. 
Two alarms having been given, a strict 
watch, and other precautions, were in- 
stituted. A third fire was set in the 
barn belonging to my Uncle Bradstreet 
Johnson on Temple stieet, Avhich was 
consumed, with Mr. Johnson's dwelling- 
house and the residences of Mr. Tommy 
Balch and jNIr. Andrew Frothingham, 
opposite. The alarm was given about 



ten o'clock, and the fire raged till morn- 
ing. Mr. Johnson was aged and fee- 
ble, and with difficulty he was moved 
from the burning house, in which he 
lost nearl}- the whole of his clothing and 
houseiiold effects. lie was taken to the 
residence of his nieces, Tempy and 
Mary Johnson, which stood next below 
on the street, where his relatives and 
friends supplied his immediate need- 
He continued with these nieces until his 
death, some two ^ears after. The 
Eastern Stage Company purchased his 
estate and erected the large lirick stable 
still standing, for their use. 

In the September following, the Rev. 
Gilbert- T. Williams, from ill health, 
was dismissed from the pastorate of the 
First church in West Newbury. He 
died on the 24th of September, 1824, 
aged G3 years. He was succeeded in 
1826 by Henry C. Wright. The Rev. 
John Kirfty, of the second parish, in 
1818 went South for his health, and on 
December 5th was drowned at Okrakok 
bar, North Carolina. He was succeed- 
ed by the Rev. Elijah Demond, who 
was settled on the 7th of March, 1821. 

In March of that 3'ear, Newburyport 
voted to erect the present almshouse. 

In 1822 the shambles gaA^e place to 
the present brick market house. 

In that same 3"ear, the Lancasterian 
or monitorial s3-stem of teaching was 
introduced into our public schools, which 
continued for several A'ears. 

As Mr. Abner Wood was desirous to 
occupy his house, on the 22nd of April, 
1821, we moved to the house on High, 
lower corner of Tyug street. The es- 
tablishment was owned by Mr. Luther 
Waterman, and the large house, staljle 
and garden, was rented for forty-five 
dollars a year. 

On the 22nd of January, 1821, my 



OF A JfOIirAGE:N^ABIA^. 



313 



sister, Susan Little Smith, was united 
in marriage with Mr. Edward Toppan. 
The name Toppan was originally Top- 
ham, taken from the name of a place 
in Yorkshire, meaning upper hamlet or 
village. The pedigree as far back as 
traced, commences with Robert Top- 
ham, who resided at Linton, near Pate- 
ly bridge, supposed to be in the west 
riding of Yorkshire. He made his will 
in January, 1550. His second son, 
Thomas Topham, was of Arnclifte, near 
Linton. He died in 1589, and was bur- 
ied in the church at Arncliffe. Edward 
Topham, alias Toppan, eldest son of 
Thomas Toppan, was of Aiglethorpe, 
near Linton, and has his pedigree re- 
corded in the college of arms, with ar- 
morial bearings. One of his sons was 
a lieutenant-colonel in the service of 
Charles I., and was killed at Marston 
Moor in 1644 . William Toppan , fourth 
son of Edward Toppan of Aiglethorpe, 
lived for some time at Calbridge, where 
his son Abraham was baptized April 
10th, 1606. The family still exists in 
England, and are now of Middleham, 
in the northwest part of Yorkshire on 
the river Ouse. As earty as 1637, 
Abraham Toppan resided at Yarmouth ; 
his wife was a Susanna Taylor, a daugh- 
ter of a Mr. Taylor and his wife Eliza- 
beth. After the death of Mr. Taylor, 
the widow Elizabeth married a Mr. 
Goodale ; after the death of Mr. Good- 
ale she came to Newbury, where she 
died April 8th, 1647. Her four daugh- 
ters were Susanna, the wife of Abra- 
ham Toppan ; Joanna, the wife of Mr. 
John Oliver, andof Capt. William Ger- 
rish ; Elizabeth, the wife of Mr. John 
Lowle ; and Ann, the wife of Capt. 
Thomas Milward, all of Newbury. In 
the first volume of the fourth series of 
the publications of the Massachusetts 



Historical Society, pp. 98 and 99, is 
the following : "A Register of the names 
of such persons who are 21 years and 
upward, and have license to passe into 
forraigne parts from March 1637 to the 
29th of September, by virtu of a Com- 
mission of Mr. Thomas Mayhew, Gen- 
tleman." Among these persons are the 
following : Abraham Toppan Cooper, 
aged 31 ; Susanna, his wife, aged 31, 
with their children Peter and Ehzabeth, 
and one mayd servant Anne Goodin, 
aged 13 years, sailed from Yarmouth 
10 May, 1637, in the ship Rose of 
Yarmouth, Wm. Andrews Master." 

In October, 1637, Abraham Toppan 
was in Newbury, as appears by the 
following extract from the town records : 

' 'Abraham Toppan being licensed by 
John Endicott Esq., to live in this ju- 
risdiction, was received into the town 
of Newberry as an inhabitant thereof 
and have promised under his hand to 
be subject to any lawful order that shall 
be made by the towne. 

Abraham Toppan. 

Oct. 1637." 

Abraham and Susanna Toppan had 
seven children. Dr. Peter, Ehzabeth, 
Abraham, Jacob, Susanna, John and 
Isaac. 

Jacob, born in 1645, married Han- 
nah Sewell Aug. 24th, 1670; their 
children were Jacob, Saumel, James, 
Jonn, Hannah, Elizabeth, Abraham, 
Anne and Sewell. 

Mrs. Toppan's maiden name was 
Wigglesworth ; she was the widow of 
John Sewell. • 

Abraham Toppan, born June 29th, 
1684, married Esther Sewell Oct. 24th, 
1713 ; the children were Edward, Ehz- 
abeth, Patience, Samuel, Jacob and 
Michael. 

Edward Toppan, born Sept. 7th, 
1715, married Sarah Bailey Sept. 7th, 
40 



314 



EEMrN^ISCE:N^CES 



1743; children, Abraham, Anna, born 
1746, died 1757, Sarah, Mary, Patience, 
Joshua, Stephen, Edward, Enoch, 
Anna, Abner and Judith. 

Enoch Toppan, born May 7th, 17.59, 
married Mary Coffin Feb. 2nd, 1794, 
and Mary Merrill. Aug. 19th, 1797 ; 
children, Moses, Edward, Margaret, 
Hannah and Mary. 

The arms of Topham or Toppan are : 




AEGEXT, A ceEVRON OULES, BETWEEN THUEE SRANE?» 
HEADS ElvASED SABLE. CREST, TWO CERrENTS 
ENTWINED ABOUND A CROSS PATEE FILCHEE. 

Jacob Toppaii owned a large tract of 
land through which Toppan.street, then 
Toppan's lane, was laid out, where, in 
1694, he built the present large and 
commodious dwelling known as the 
Toppan house. He was succeeded in 
the homestead by his son Abraham, his 
grandson Edward, and his great-grand- 
son Enoch. 

Edward Toppan, born April 7th, 
1796, was the husband of my sister. 
Mr. Toppan had erected a house below 
his father's, on the opposite side of the 
lane, whither he took his bride. His 
brother Moses married Cornelia Brown, 
Feb. 2nd, 1828, and continued on the 
homestead. 

My sister's mai-riage was satisfactorj^ 
to the whole family, but especially so 
to me, as it brought her into mj^ imme- 



diate vicinage. The new house, with 
its neat furniture was most inviting. 
]Mi'S. Toppan, a thorough housekeeper, 
possessing much energy, skill and taste, 
made an excellent wife and mother. 
Though a farmer's wife, and the uns- 
tress of a large family-, hers was an un- 
usually orderty household, and though 
no duty was neglected, time was found 
for social intercourse, hospitable enter- 
tainment, charitable deeds, the cultiva- 
tion of a flower garden, and a variety 
of house plants, while her ingenuity- and 
skill were often exhibited in little adorn- 
ments in" dress, or for the dwelling, and 
as gifts to relatives and friends. Mr. 
Toppan, a most excellent husband, 
father, neighbor and citizen, held im- 
portant i)ositions in the town, and in 
theparishof the First Religions Society. 
A consistent Democrat, he twice repre- 
sented his native place in the State leg- 
islature. 

In the spring of 1821 Capt. Joseph 
O'Brian moved to Reading, Pennsylva- 
nia, and with his two sons, Dennis and 
Joseph, went into the drj' goods busi- 
ness under the firm of "Joseph O'Brian 
& Sons, sign of the 'Golden Ball.'" 
Thomas O'Brian, in compau}' with 
Thomas Foster, set up in the shoe busi- 
ness, as the firm of "O'Brian & Foster." 

I had been so intimately associated 
^^•ith this aunt from infanc}^ that I scarce- 
ly knew how to live without her ; her 
departure caused a loneliness which was 
not at once dispelled ; and her adopted 
daughter, Eliza Bartlett, was also great- 
ly missed. 

The next spring the family- received 
with great pleasure a visit fi'om m^^ 
Aunt Peabod}^ ; she was accompanied 
by her thuxl daughter Sophila. Learn- 
ing that the "Citizen" had arrived with 
the expected guests, Mr. Emerj^ and 



OF A i^on"Age:n^aiiia:n^. 



315 



ray brotliei' -Joseph hastened to the 
wharf. The}' found Mrs. Peabod}^ and 
her daughter in Mr. Dodge's counting- 
room, awaiting a carriage to conve^^ 
them to the residence of Mrs. Peabody's 
sister, Mrs. Samuel No^'es, at the 
"Farms," Newbury. Mr. Emery re- 
ceived the greeting of an old friend ; 
but he was obhged to introduce his 
companion. Mrs. Peabody could scarce- 
ly realize that the tall, handsome 3'oung 
man could be "sister Prud3''s little Jo- 
seph," and the little Sophila had 
changed as much to the gentlemen. 

At dinner I was entertained with an 
account of the meeting, and naturally 
inquired respecting m^' cousin Sophila's 
personal appearance. Mr. Emery re- 
pUed, "that she was not as handsoine 
as Sophronia, that she was a complete 
Southern girl." My brother's hand- 
some black eyes si^arkled as he added, 
"that he thought her full as handsome 
as her elder sister, and that she was the 
most graceful and polished 3'Oung lady 
he had ever met ;" altogether he pro- 
nounced her "perfectly charming." I 
was somewhat amused, and was not as 
much surprised as Aunt Peabody, at 
her nephew's extremelj' considerate at- 
tention in driving her and her daughter 
about the vicinity' to visit their numer- 
ous relatives. The visitors returned 
home in October, when the cousins' en- 
gagement was openl}' declared. No 
one thought of objecting on account of 
consanguinit}', and the lad}' had ren- 
dered herself a general favorite. Mar- 
rying cousins was a family trait ; m}' 
husband and ni}- brother James and his 
wife were second cousins ; Mrs. Top- 
pan and her husband were also rela- 
tives, as Mr. Toppan's grandmother 
was a Little, from Turke}' Hill ; my 
brother and his affianced had but fol- 



lowed the famih' predilection of Little 
cleaving to Little in preference to the 
rest of creation. 

The wedding took place the next Oc- 
tober, at Gen. Peabody's residence in 
Georgetown. The bridal pair came di- 
rectly to Newburj-port, and remained 
with us until a house was procured. 

Miss Dorotln- Miltimore had some 
years previous married Capt. James 
Rousseau ; he was recently deceased, 
and the widow, with her two children, 
had returned to the paternal roof. My 
brother rented her house at the head of 
Strong Street, and in six weeks the 
young couple went to housekeeping. 
Polly Smart, who for 3-ears had been a 
faithful servitor in Gen. Peabody's fam- 
ily, had come North. At the time of 
Miss Sophila's marriage she was on a 
visit to Plymouth, N. H. Upon receiv- 
ing the intelligence she hastened to 
Newbury port to meet the wedded pair, 
and remained with us until the house 
was secured, when she at once assumed 
the management of affairs . ' ' What did 
that young thing know of New England 
housekeeping? She could embroider 
muslin and paint picters, but she knew 
no more how to take care of Joe Smith 
and his house than a baby !" So Mrs. 
Smith was installed in state in the par- 
lor to receive callers and entertain her 
husband and his friends, while Polly, in 
her short gown and petticoat, and tow 
apron, her hair unique^ drawn under a 
net, her .round honest face radiant with 
responsibility, clattered about with her 
strong bare arms amongst the pots and 
pans, a perfect autocrat of the' kitchen. 

On April 4th, 1823, my grandfather, 
Joseph Little, died at the ripe age of 
83. He had suffered most patiently for 
some time from a cancerous stomach, 
and his departure had been long ex- 



316 



REMUNTSOEI^CES 



pected. My grandmother had a few 
years before been stricken with paral}-- 
sis. Grandsir had been assiduous in 
his attention, and his departure was 
keenly felt by his widow ; we all sadly 
missed the kind, genial old gentleman, 
and the old homestead ever after seemed 
lone and desolate. 



CHAPTER LXI. 

On August 31st, 1824, LaFayette 
visited Newburyport. On the 23d a 
town-meeting was called to arrange the 
reception. It was decided that the com- 
mittee of arrangements should receive 
the General at Ipswich, thence he would 
proceed under the escort of a battalion 
of Cavalry, through Rowley to New- 
bury, Old town. At the head of South 
street this escort was to be joined l:)y 
the Newburyport Artillery and the 
Washington Light lufontr}', when the 
distinguished guest would be conducted 
through High and down State street to 
the Tracy mansion, then to the resi- 
dence of James Prince, esq., where he 
would be entertained. I^pon his arrival 
at the Prince house an address of wel- 
come would be given by the Hon. Eb- 
enezer Mosele}". The houses along the 
line of the procession were to be. illumi- 
nated ; the signal for lighting would be 
a gun fired from Oldtown Hill. On the 
following morning an hour would be ap- 
propriated to the introduction of ladies 
and gentlemen, the time to be announced 
by ringing of the bells. A procession 
would then be formed of the conunis- 
sioned officers of the brigade in uni- 
form ; State and municipal magistrates 
and citizens to aecompanj- the General 
through the principal streets, escorted 



by the B3'field Rifle Corps, the New- 
bur^qDort Artillery, and the Washington 
Light lufantrj'. This rifle company 
was the first organized in the State, and 
the^^ were distinguished for accuracy of 
aim and other soldierly qualities. The 
school children were to assemble in the 
mall, the procession to pass through the 
lines. Citizens were requested to dis- 
play- flags on the vessels and other con- 
spicuous places. The committee of ar- 
rangements were Ebenezer Wheelright, 
esq., Hon. Ebenezer Moseley, Anthony- 
Smith, William Davis, Philip Coombs, 
Joshua Greenleaf, William Bartlett, 
esq., Hon, Samuel S Wilde, William 
Cross, Josiah Smith, Thomas M. Clark, 
Joshua Greenleaf, John Coffin, Abra- 
ham Williams, John Merrill and Caleb 
Cushing, esq. 

The marshals of the day were Capt. 
Edmund Bartlett, Maj. Thomas Per- 
kins, Maj. David Emery, Messrs. 
George Cross, Nathaniel Foster, John 
Scott, esq., and Nathan Brown. 

Mr. Prince's elegant mansion was 
put in readiness to receive the distin- 
guished guest. Mr. Emery took me to 
see the chamber he was to occup}'. It 
was the apartment in which Washing- 
ton had slept on his visit to the town, 
and the furniture had never been re- 
moved. The bedstead which had the 
honor to support both Washington and 
LaFayette on the night of their sojourn 
in Newburyport, Avas of mahogany, 
about the height of our modern bed- 
steads, with four handsomely carved 
posts reaching nearly to the ceiling. 
The hangings were of crimson silk dam- 
ask, long curtains on rods, drawing 
around the bed, with valances draping 
the tester ; the coverlet was like the 
curtains, and the whole were bordered 
by an ornamental gimp and fringe. 



OP A NONAGENAKIAI"^^. 



317 



The seats to the mahogaii}^ chairs were 
covered to match ; the rest of the fur- 
niture was rich and massive. 

The dining-room was resplendent, 
with its handsomely appurtenanced side- 
board, and the table was spre.ad with 
great elegance. The spacious parlors 
were luxurious with their polished fur- 
r niture, silken curtains and superb mir- 
rors." Ever3'thing was fitting for the 
reception of the noble and honored vis- 
itor. 

An arch was thrown across the head 
of State street which bore the inscrip- 
tion "The Hero of Two Continents." 
Many of the windows of the houses on 
the route of the procession were deco- 
rated with mottoes expressive of the 
most enthusiastic joy. 

At an earl}' hour on Tuesday even- 
ing, August 31st, the General arrived 
at Ipswich, amid the greetings of a 
large assembly of citizens. He was ad- 
dressed by Nathaniel Lord, esq., and 
after partaking of a collation provided 
at Treadwell's Hotel, he proceeded 
towards Newburyport at 9 o'clock, at- 
tended by his suite, Maj. General Stick- 
ney and his Aid, and the committee of 
arrangements. The houses along the 
road in Oldtown, as well as in New- 
buryport, were illuminated. At the 
Lower Green the residence of Mr. Sam- 
uel Newman was conspicuous for the 
beaut}' and good taste regarding the 
lights. The hero's approach was an- 
nounced by the ringing of bells, the 
roaring of cannons, and the display of 
rockets. 

Unfortunately a drenching southerly 
rain set in the first of the evening, 
which marred everything. Notwith- 
standing the water poured down like a 
second flood, an immense crowd re- 
ceived the General. Upon arriving at 



the Prince house he was addressed b}- 
Hon. Ebenezer Moseley as follows : 

"Gen. LaFayette, — The citizens of 
Newburyport are happ}' in this oppor- 
tunity of greeting with the warmest 
welcome, a distinguished benefactor of 
their country. 

The important services you rendered 
this people in the day of their distress, 
the devotedness which 30U manifested 
in their perilous cause, and the dangers 
which yru sought for their relief, are 
incorporated in our histor}^ and firml}' 
engraven on our hearts. 

We would lead you to our institu- 
tions of learning, charity and religion ; 
we would point you to our hills and val- 
leys, covered with flocks and smiling in 
abundance, that you ma_y behold the 
happy efl'ects of those principles of lib- 
erty which you were so instrumental in 
establishing. Our children cluster about 
you to receive a patriot's blessing. Our 
citizens press forward to show their 
gratitude. Our nation pays you a trib- 
ute whicii must remove the reproach 
that republics are ungrateful. 

As the zealous advocate of civil lib- 
erty we give 3'ou welcome ; as the brave 
defender of an oppressed people, we 
make 3'OU welcome — as the friend and 
companion of our immortal Washing- 
ton, we bid 30U welcome." 

To this a brief and appropriate repl}' 
was made, in which the General mod- 
estly hinted, that "the great attention 
paid him was far bej'ond his expecta- 
tions or deserts — that his feelings of at- 
tachment towards this country could 
not be expressed, but only felt by a 
heart glowing with the most ardent af- 
fection." 

A window was thrown up, and the 
General presented himself to the crowd. 
p]very one strove to first grasp his hand ; 
the shouts were hushed in the excess 
of aflTectionate feeling, while in kind re- 
bukes he expressed his sorrow that any 
should be exposed for his sake to the 
inclement weather. vSupper, which had 



318 



REMrNISCE]S'CE& 



been provided by IMr. Stetson, was then 
served. At the tal)le, with the General 
and his suite, were the military officers, 
the committee of arrangements, the cler- 
gymen of the town and the marshals of 
the da_v. 

T passed an anxious evening. My 
husband's health did not admit of ex- 
posure, and I knew he must be com- 
pletely drenched. The bells and the 
guns announced the arrival of the cor- 
tege. About 11 o'clock I was startled 
b}' the entrance of a stranger, a cavahy 
officer from Andover, who brought an 
introduction from ni}' husband. He 
was in delicate health and feared the 
worst from such a wetting. I supjjlied 
dry clothes and a cup of hot tea, while 
Bal)b. having stabled the officer's steed, 
built a rousing fire in the kitchen lire- 
place to dry his uniform. INIr. Emery 
arrived about 12 ; his military cloak 
had been some defence, still his cloth- 
ing was saturated. The crowd had been 
great, and owing to the pelting rain 
there had been much confusion. A 
gang of pickpockets was following the 
General on his route, and several of our 
citizens were most adroitly despoiled of 
their pocket-books and watches. The 
marshals had been obliged to remain on 
horseback until the compan}' sat down 
to supper. As the suits must be ready 
for service in the morning, the faithful 
Babb and John B. Porter, then a lad in 
the famil3^ took them in charge while 
the tired owners sought repose. 

On Wednesday morning the weather 
being unpromising, the procession was 
abandoned. After graceful^' receiving- 
all who chose an introduction, LaFay- 
ette entered his carriage for Portsmouth. 
An escort composed of cavahy, light 
infantry and artillery, accompanied him 
a short distance ; the gentlemen of the 



committee of arrangements, and the 
marshals attended him to Leavitt's tav- 
ern in Hampton. In the afternoon the 
disappointed children were paraded on 
the mall ; the^y had been furnished with 
LaFayette badges. The girls wore 
white dresses and blue sashes, upon 
which was stamped a portrait of the ' 
General ; a similar likeness had been 
put on white satin ribbons about a quar- 
ter of a yard in length, which were at- 
tached to the buttonholes of the boys' 
jackets. 

LaFa^'ette returned to town between 
12 and 1 o'clock Thursday morning. 
The houses on High street through 
Belleville and Xewburyport were bril- 
liantly illuminated, and every one was 
up to receive the beloved visitor. 

The General remained here about two 
hours, and then set out for Boston, 
where he was under an engagement ta 
review a body of troops at Lexington. 

There were many interesting meet- 
ings during LaFayette's visit with old 
friends, his former comrades in arms, 
Capt. Gould and Mr. Edward Toppan, 
had served under him in Rhode Island ; 
Mr. Lemuel Coffin had been under Col. 
Bayler of Washington's Life Guards, 
and witnessed LaFayette's brave con- 
duct at Monmouth ; Mr. Amos Pear- 
son had been with him at the capture of 
Burgoj'ne ; but of the man}', veterans of 
the continental army who were present- 
ed to the General, none produced a 
stronger title to notice than Mr. Daniel 
Foster ; he was a non-commissioned of- 
ficer in LaFayette's select corps of 
Light Infantry, and constant!}' about 
the' General. This had been the pet 
corps of LaFayette, and he uniformed 
and armed it at his own expense. Mr. 
Foster advanced before the General, 
and holding his sword, welcomed his 




<4 ^-^' 







If 

f 






















^^4 



















OF A IfONAGElS^AKIAl^. 



319 



former commander to onr shores. He 
told liim ' 'he was proud to see him once 
.^more on American soil, and that his 
son's sons participated in his happiness 
on this joyful occasion." ^Vhen La- 
Fayette saw one of his own infantry 
standing before him, one who had often 
commanded his quarter guard, and his 
own mark on the blade of the sword 
half drawn from the scabbard, he greet- 
ed the old soldier most cordially, em- 
: bracing him enthusiastically, telling him 
"that he looked upon him as one of his 
own family." 

Had it not been for the unpropitious 
weather, this reception would have been 
. .most auspicious ; but the rain cansing 
-' a change in the programme, some dis- 
appointment and mistakes ensued. 

The l^yfield Rifle Corps was to have 
joined in the Wednesday morning's pro- 
, J- cession ; they came into town the even- 
V hig previous to witness the ai'rival of 
'.' the General and be in readiness for the 
: next morning's celebration. Owing to 
! the procession 's being abandoned the}^ 
were entirely overlooked. Mr. Emerj' 
- found them a rueful set of men, without 
;i breakfast. He immediately- ordered 
the requisite refreshment, which, though 
it took nearly forty dollars from his 
pocket, secured him the kind remem- 
brance of his own comrades, friends 
nnd neighbors. 



CHAPTER LXII. 

Jn August the county bought the es- 
tate above the jail. This property be- 
longed to Mr. Thomas Somerby. On 
it was a good two-stor}^ house, which 
was sold to be removed, for the erection 



of the stone house occupied by the jail 
keeper. The Somerb}^ house was put 
up at auction, and was knocked off to 
Mr. Emery for $190. By the terms of 
sale he was obliged to move it in one 
week ; it was sold on Tuesday, and the 
next week Monday at half-past 5 in the 
afternoon, it was on his hill fronting his 
stable and slaughter-house. This was 
an astonishing expedition for those 
days, as none of the preseiit appliances 
for moving buildings were at hand. 
Mr. Emery was obliged to go to Dan- 
vers to procure the wheels upon wliich 
the building was moved. The team- 
sters and farmers in the town and vi- 
cinity furnished the teams ; a string of 
forty-two yoke of oxen drew the l)uild- 
iug to its place. 

High street was lined with people to 
witness the novel sight ; there had not 
been such a stir in the town for months, 
as in those days there was little to 
break the monotony excepting the daily 
arrivals of the various stages, and 
"court week," which was hailed with 
especial delight by the 3'oung ladies, as 
a season for evening parties, at which 
the lawyers and other distinguished 
strangers which the court drew into 
town, were entertained. 

The evening of LaFayette's arrival 
the house stood upon posts, the cellar 
not having been completed, and I great- 
ly feared that it would be blown over 
in the southeastern storm. No acci- 
dent happened, and an L vy^as immedi- 
ately added. There was so little build- 
ing at that time that the remodelling of 
the house attracted much attention, and 
visitors often went to view the building 
and the fine prospect which its site af- 
forded. Mr. Moses Coffin and his sons 
did the joiner's work, and Mr.' Marshall 
the masonry. The house was complet- 



320 



REMINISCENCES 



ed by November, and we took posses- 
sion on the 22nd. 

The next February my Aunt Thurrel 
died ; her husband went before some 
two or three years. In March, her 
brother, and Mr. Emery's grandfather, 
John. Little, died ; he took cold at his 
sister's funeral and never went out 
again. In the same week we were 
called to mourn the loss of Jane Noyes, 
the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
Samuel Noyes. Jane was a very lieau- 
tiful and lovely girl of nineteen, and her 
death caused a sad void in the home 
and throughout the family. Her illness 
was lingering and distressing, but it 
was borne with a patience and even 
cheerfulness, which evinced the most 
lovely traits of a truly christian charac- 
ter. Leaning upon the Savior, she 
calmly met the approach of death, and 
with childlike trust at last fell asleep in 
Jesus. ' Jane Noyes was buried on one 
day, and Grandfather Little on the 
next. 

The next October my brother Joseph 
moved to Boston, and went into the 
wholesale grocery business in a store 
on North Market street, in company 
with the Hon. Marshall P. Wilder. 

The next spring Mr. Solomon Babb 
took possession of a farm which he had 
purchased in Meredith. N. IL, border- 
ing on Lake Winnipiseogee. This es- 
tate was bought with the savings of his 
period of service in our family. He not 
only secured a fine large farin, but had 
also sufficient funds to stock it and s^^t 
up housekeeping. 

In the August of 1824 Capt. John 
Kmer}^ Remick, then a lad of fourteen, 
the second son of Capt. John Remick, 
and grandson of Mr. Emery's uncle, 
Maj. Ephraim Emery, came to reside 
with us ; he continued in our household 



until after his majority, and was ever 
regarded as a son in the familv. 



CHAPTER LXIII. 

Methodism acquired but few adhe- 
rents in this vicinity until 1819, when 
the Rev. John Adams, commonly known 
as "Reformation John," commenced his f 
labors. The first meetings were held 
in private houses ; then, an old school- 
house on Marlborough street became 
the place of worship, while the prayer- 
meetings were still held at the dwellings 
of the converts. 

A church had been built at Salisbury, 
and until 1825 the two societies were 
connected, Mr. Adams preaching alter- 
nately at the two places. On the Sab- . 
baths when the service was held in 
Salisbury, many of the Newbur^^ people 
crossed the river in boats to attend di- ■ 
vine worship. At that period there 
were many itinerant preachers conse- 
crated to missionary work ; these trav- 
elled on foot, their clothing slung in a 
knapsack on their shoulders or on horse- 
back, the saddle-bags depending from 
the saddle containing the sum of their 
worldl}' possessions. 

Mr. Cutting Petttngell was one of the 
first converts, and his house was ever 
open to his brethren. Often at sunset 
one or more of these tired, dusty, way- 
worn travellers would arrive, explain- 
ing that the}- had been directed to the 
"Pilgrim's Hom.e," as Mr. Pettingell's 
house had become designated. 

In 1825, a small, one-story chapel, 
with an unpretending portico over the 
entrance, was erected in the midst of a 
field between South and Marlborougii 



OF A ]SrONAGEI^AEIAN-. 



321 



streets. Gates opening upon paths 
through the potato patch gave ingress 
to the building ; the principal walk led 
from a gate at the head of Chase'? court 
directly to the front door. This incon- 
venient location had been chosen on ac- 
count of the cheapness of the site. 

Among the first pew-holders were the 
Pettingells, Plummers, Hunts, Good- 
wins, Lunts, Thurlows, Capt. Joseph 
L. Colb}^, Mr. Benjamin Brown, Mr. 
David Watts. Mr. Moses Chase, Mr. 
Charles Shoof, Mr. Amos Currier, Jo- 
siah Plummer Noyes, Mr. Isaac No^^es, 
Mr. William Ilsley, Mr. Michael Worm- 
stead, Mr. Samuel Smith, Mr. Benja- 
min Atkinson, Mr. Joseph Janvriu and 
Mr. Peabody Greenleaf. 

In a few years Adelphi street was 
laid out ; this brought the chapel into a 
pleasant and convenient situation, ac- 
cessible from the sidewalk. The band, 
who in the face of much opposition had 
founded this new society, reckoned 
among its members some of the deepest 
thinkers and most respectable citizens 
of that part of the town ; still they were 
subjected to much animadversion and 
derision. Many of the more zealous 
female members, discarding outward 
adornment, wore short hair and ex- 
tremely plain attire ; this, and their as- 
sisting to conduct the meetings, brought 
upon them the scorn and ridicule of the 
more worldly' minded. 

Greatly in need of a domestic, I was 
informed that a young girl named Ann 
Page desired a place. My invitation 
that she should call was immediatel}^ 
answered b}' a pretty, black-eyed girl 
of eighteen, lively and enthusiastic. 
To the chagrin and displeasure of her 
parents. Miss Page had embraced Meth- 
odism, and her mother declared "that 
if she would persist in disgracing her- 



self, she must leave the paternal roof." 
Ann gave a graphic description of her 
conversion. One evening, from curi- 
osity, she attended a meeting, declaring 
in her gay manner, "that she must hear 
the preacher, who shouted so loud that 
one could see the pudding he ate for 
dinner." The careless, thoughtless girl 
entered that old Marlborough street 
school-house to emerge a changed be- 
ing. "Old things had passed away, all 
had become new." Her fine clothes 
were laid aside, her luxuriant locks 
were shorn, and in a plain calico, and a 
straw bonnet tied by a ribbon, drawn 
smoothl}^ over the crown, she sought a 
place at service, that she might enjoy 
her religion without censure. The only 
boon, she craved was to attend the Sat- 
urday evening class meetings and the 
Sabbath services. Though a total ig- 
norance of the duties of a serving-maid 
was admitted, I was so much pleased 
with the girl that I hired her directly, 
and a most pleasant and efficient mem- 
ber of the household she became ; wil- 
ling, quick, lively and affectionate, she 
grew to be the light of the house. At 
the end of a 3'ear, her parents having 
become reconciled to her change of faith, 
she returned home to prepare for mar- 
riage. In that relation and throughout 
life she has exemplified the sincerity of 
her conversion. In her sportive man- 
ner she often testifies to the benefit that 
Methodism conferred in a temporal as 
well as spiritual sense. By being sent 
to service she gained the knowledge 
which is invaluable to a woman, a thor- 
ough training in domestic life. 

The Bo3'nton famil}^ date from the in- 
vasion of Ireland by the Norsemen, in 
the seventh century. A chieftain of the 
race obtained a victor}^ on the river 
Boyne, and from that historic stream 
41 



322 



REMENISCENCES 



took the name of Bo^nton. The com- 
mencemeut of the famil}' pedigree in 
England is as follows : 

"Bartholomew Boynton, of Boyntou, 
Lord of the Manor* in 1014, had Wal- 
ter de Boj-nton, living in 1092, who had 
Su' Ingram Boj^nton Kent, 1113, who 
had Thomas Boynton, 1142, who had 
William de Boynton, 1166. 

Sir William de Bovington, living in 
1214, to whom Ingelram Monceau gave 
2 messuages, 3 cottages and 7 bovats 
of land in Bovington, married Alecia, 
daughter of Ingelram Monceau, living 
a widow in 1221, when she gave two 
oxgangs of land in Bovington to Nun 
Apple ton Prior}'. 

Sir Ingelram de Bovington, seated at 
Acklam, 1229, married a daughter of 
Roger der Acklam. 

AYilliam Boynton of Acklam, living 
in 1277, married Jaou, daughter of Sir 
John Wadsley. 

Ingram de Boyton, held the 3d part 
of one knight's fee, in Acklam, Levin- 
thorpe, Thornton, Martin, Cottesby 
and Rouceby 1313, married Margaret, 
daughter of Sir Walter Grindal — Isabel, 
daughter of Robert Nevile of Hornbj' 
2nd wife. 

Sn- Walter de Boynton succeeded his 
father 1320, and heir to his brother 
John. He was knighted in 1356, being 
in the service of the Black Prince in 
Brittany ; married daughter of William 
Aton of A^'ton. 

John de Bo\angton, gave 1 messuage, 
1 taft, and 4 bovats of land in Boving- 
ton, for the maintenance of a cliaplain, 
to pra\' at the altar of the Blessed Mary 
in Bovington, 'for his own soul, the 
souls of his father and mother, and the 
souls of all his ancestors, and the faith- 
ful dead.' 

Su- Thomas Boj-uton of Acklam 1377, 



jointly with Thomas de Ingleby, had a 
grant from King Edward for free wai*- 
ren in Acklam, Cleveland, Ai-esome, 
Rousb}-, Newton, Smeaton and Boyn- 
ton, CO. York, and in 1392 Richard 
2nd confirmed a gift of the fisherj- on 
the river Teyse at Catterick ; married 
Catharine, daughter and co-heiress of 
Sir Geoffery Rossels of Newton, under 
Dunesburgh, Cleveland. 

Sir Thomas Boynton, lieutenant and 
constable at Carlisle, under Ilenr}' Per- 
C3'e, son of the I^arl of Northumberland 
in 1383, died before his father, married 
Margaret, daughter of Sir John Spec- 
ton of Sawkill. 

Sir Robert Boj'nton was governor of 
Berwick Castle in 1377, married Isabel, 
daughter of Sir William Normanville. 

Sir Henrj' de Boyntou, succeeded his 
grandfather. Sir Thomas, in 1402. He 
was suspected of being in the interest 
of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumber- 
land, and his son, who had taken arms 
against Henry 4th in 1403 ; when the 
battle of Shrewsbur}' was fought, his 
oath was taken to be true to the king, 
yet three years after he was concerned 
with the said Earl, Thos. Mowbray, 
Earl Marshall, Richard Scrope, arch- 
bishop of York, and others who had 
taken arms, and llying to Berwick, was 
apprehended, and on the surrender 
thereof to the king, with seven others, 
executed July 20th, 1405 ; he married 
Elisabeth, daughter of Sir John Con- 
gers, of Sackburne. 

Thomas de Boynton, aged 12 at his 
father's death, married Margaret, daugh- 
ter of Peter Mirfield. 

Sir William Boyntou, brother and 
heir to Thomas de Boynton, married 
Jane, daughter of Simon Harding. 

Sir Thomas Boynton of Akclam, mar- 
ried Isabel, daughter of Sir William 



OF A k^o:n'Agei^aiiiai^. 



323 



Norman ville of Kilnwick. The will of 
Dame Joan Boynton of Yarm, was 
proved Feb. 7th, 1488. She had a li- 
cense for an oratory at Sudbury Dec. 
2nd, 1455, and also April 30th, 1463, 
to have service in an oratory wherever 
she chose, and in March 1473 Arch- 
bishop Nevile granted her the privilege 
for thi'ee ^^ears. 

Sir Henry Boynton, lord of Barm- 
ston, married before 1473, Margaret, 
daughter and co-heiress of Sir Martin 
del See, Lord of Barmston, ob. before 
1497. Dame Margery was a votary 
and patroness to the priory of Nun 
Gotham. 

Thomas Boynton of Barmston and 
Akclara, in 1519 petitioned the Cardinal 
of York to have the chapel of Rousby 
consecrated and sacraments adminis- 
tered there. He died March 17th, 
1523, and was buried in Rousby chapel ; 
married Cecelia, daughter of Sir James 
Strangewa^'s at Smeaton. 

Matthew Boynton Esq., steward of 
the lordships belonging to St. Mary's 
Abbey, in York, died at York July 31st, 
1541, aged 40. He had a grant of land 
for life from Henry 8th, of the high 
stewardship of all lands in the counties 
of York and Lincoln, forfeited by the 
attainder of William Wood, prior of 
Bridlington. In his will desired to be 
buried at Barmston, and leaves 20£ to 
the high altar in that church ; married 
Ann, daughter of Sir John Bulmer of 
Wilton. 

Sir Thomas Boynton, son and heir, 
aged 18 at his father's decease, and 
whose custody was given to Sir Ralph 
Evans, M. P. for Boroughbridge, 13th 
Elisabeth, high sheriff of Yorkshire, 
I8th Ehsabeth, and knighted by her 
Majesty at Hampton Court January 
1577, in the 20th year of her reign, was 



buried amongst his ancestors at Barm- 
ston. In his will he earnestly requests 
Henry, Earl of Huntingdon, (styling 
him 'that man of God,') to take upon 
him the guardianship of his only son ; 
married 1st Ellen, daughter of Sir, 
Nicholas Fairfax, of Walton, was a 
minor in the king's wardship, with whom 
he had never company, but she was di- 
vorced from him, and married Vava- 
vour of Hazlewood (1174) ; Margaret, 
2nd wife, daughter of Sir WiUiam Hen- 
ton, of Harpsham ; 3d wife, Frances, 
daughter of Sir Francis Frobisher, of 
Altufts ; 4th wife, Alice, daughter of 
Nicholas Tempest, of Helmsden. Cece- 
ly Boynton, second daughter of Sir 
Thomas, was maid of honor to Queen 
Elisabeth. 

Sir Francis Boynton, high sheriff of 
Yorkshire, 1536, knighted at York 
April 17th, 1603, by King James, when 
he passed through that city on his way 
from Scotland, and had a deputation 
dated at York March 11th, 1615, for 
preserving game in the North and East 
Ridings. He died April 9th, 1 617, and 
was buried at Barmston. At his death 
he was seized of the Manors of Barm- 
ston-cum-Winkton, Rousby, Acklam, 
Rudstone, a moiety of the manor of 
Middleton, Tyas, and lands in Barm- 
ston, and the rectories of Barmston and 
Bridhngton ; married Dorothy, daugh- 
ter and heiress of Sir Christopher Place 
of Holuaby. 

Sir Matthew Boynton, baptized at 
Barmston Jan. 26th, 1591, knighted by 
King James at Whitehall, May 9th, 
1618, and by letters patent, dated the 
25th of that month, advanced to the 
dignity of a baronet of Great Britain, 
M. P. for Heyden 1620. He was one 
of those rebels ( ?) chiefly entrusted in 
Yorkshire, for whom Sir John Hotham, 



324 



IlEMrNriSCE:N^CES 



and his son, Ca])t. Hotham, were con- 
triving -the surrender of Hull to the 
King. This Sir Matthew Bo3'nton, had 
orders from parliament to have an e^'e 
on them, and endeavor to preserve the 
town if he perceived it in danger, pur- 
suant to which he conti'ived the seizing 
him, and Col. Matthew Boj-nton, his 
son, actually took Sir John prisoner, 
and received pardon under the great 
seal Feb. 10th, 1625, high sheriff co., 
York 1628, 1644 and 1645. He had a 
deputation dated at Westminster April 
5th, 1631, for preserving the game in 
the North and East Ridings, M. P. for 
Scarborough Oct. 25th, 1643, colonel 
of a troop of Horse, and governor of 
Scarborough Castle temp of Charles 1st 
and took an active part in the civil wars 
of tiie period. He died at Highgate, 
CO. Middlesex, and was buried in the 
chancel of St. Albans, Holborn, March 
,12th, 1646. 1st wife, Frances, daugh- 
ter of Sir Henr}^ Griffeth Kent, and 
Bart, of Wicknow, co. Stafford and 
Burton Agnes, co. York (and sole heir- 
ess to her brother Sir Henry) by his 
lady Elisabeth, daughter of Thomas 
Throckmorton Esq. of Lough ton, co. 
Warwick, lineally descended from the 
Kings of England, the Dukes of Nor- 
mandy, the Princes of Wales, and the 
Earls of Northumberland, before and 
after the Conquest, of the Earls of 
March and Dunbar in Scotland, mar- 
riage settlement dated Sept. 27th, 1614, 
and died in July 1634, aged 36, and 
buried at Rousby, where a tomb is erect- 
ed to her memory. 2nd wife, Katha- 
rine 2nd, daughter of Thomas, Viscount 
Fairfax of Emley. 

MathewBojaiton, Lieutenant Colonel, 
was slain at Wigan, co. Lancaster, Aug. 
26th, 1631, in the advance of King 
Charles' army towards Worcester ; mar- 



ried Isabel, daughter of Robert Staple- 
ton, of Wighill. Peregrine Boynton 
died Aug. 28th, 1645, and was buried 
at Barmston, whereon an epitaph is in- 
scribed, 'This child God gave unto 
them when strangers in a foreign land.' 
Mary and other children." 

This is all the record in England of 
the Boj'utons coming to America. 

Rev. Ezekiel Rogers arrived in this 
countr}' with many respectable York- 
shire families, "godly men" and "most 
of them of good estate," in the autumn 
of 1638. The settlement of Rowley 
was commenced April, 1639. On the 
3d of Dec. 1639 Mr. Rogers was in- 
stalled pastor over the church. 

The town was laid out in streets and 
lots. The record reads : "On Bradford 
Streete, To John Boynton, one lotte 
containinge anacree andalialfe, bound- 
ed on the south side by Michael Hop- 
kiuson's house lott, part of it lyinge on 
the west side, and part of it on the east 
side of the street. 

To William Boynton, one lott, con- 
taininge an acree and a halfe, bounded 
on the south side b}' John Boynton's 
house lott, part of it l3'inge on the west 
side, and part on the east side of the 
street." 

John Boynton died in 1670. 

William Bo^'nton was made Freeman 
in 1640, died in 1665. William, the 
son of William and Elisabeth Bo3'nton, 
was the first teacher in Rowle}" ; he 
taught about twent3'-four years. 

William B03 nton was one of fift3- 
eight, to whom, in 1667, Hog Island 
marshes were divided and laid out. 
In 1680 Rowle3' appointed nine tithing 
men for the inspection of families. 
Ivory Kilbarn was to inspect John and 
Caleb Bo3'nton's families, and John 
Pearson the famil3' of Joseph Boynton. 



OF A NON^AGEJ^rARIAJN". 



325 



In 1691 the town paid Caleb Boyn- 

■ ton £4. 158. 3d. for his son William 

Boj^nton for militarj' service in Canada. 

In 1754 Stephen Bo3'nton was out 
under Capt. John Lane at the eastern 
frontier, and in 1 755 he was a private 
in a company under Capt. Thomas 
Gage, raised in Rowley to do dut}^ at 
Lake George and vicinity. 

John Boj'nton was out six and a half 
months under Capt. Jonathan Pearson 
of Newbury. 

May 31st, 1757, James Bo^niton's 
name is amongst those forming Capt. 
John Pearson's Troop of Horse. 

June 15th, 1759, John Boynton was 
one of Capt. Thurston's Alarm List. 

In 1759 James Boynton was a pri- 
vate under Capt. Thomas Poor, of Au- 
dover. 

In 1760 James Boynton was in a 
compan}^ raised under Capt. James Her- 
rick, of Boxford, for the total reduction 
of Canada. 

In 1779 Enoch Boynton was one of 
Capt. Thomas Mighill's company, who 
served in Col. Nathaniel Wade's regi- 
ment at West Point the term of three 
months. 

Ephraim Boynton was fourth ser- 
geant in the train band belonging to 
Capt. John Northend's compan}' in 
Rowle}'. Epln-aim Boynton married 
Abigaile, daughter of David Emery, of 
Newbur3^ 

Joshua Boynton, son of John, born 
in 1640, held two hundred acres of the 
water front on the river Parker in By- 
field. 

^His son Joshua, born in 1677, was 
deacon of the church in that parish for 
fort}^ years ; he died in 1770. 

Joshua, born 1677, died in 1770. 

Enoch B., born in 1759, died in 1798. 

Enoch, born in 1730, died in 1805. 



Enoch, born in 1799, died in 1859. 
His son, Methusela, was the fathei' of 
Alfred Boj-nton, who married Abigail 
Moody ; children, Alfred, Eben Mood3% 
Charles and William. 

Enoch Boynton, born in 1773, died 
in 1859 ; his wife, Alice Adams, died 
in 1811. 

Enoch T. Boynton, born in 1804, 
died in 1826. 

Adding Boynton born May 27, 1806. 
The Boynton Place on the old Newbury 
Turnpike was for 3^ears a noted tavern ; 
m'au3' can remember the sign of the 
golden ball. Afterwards Enoch Boyn- 
ton rendered it famous by his attempt 
at raising silk worms. He has now de- 
parted this life, and the inheritance of 
so many generations has passed from 
the famil3'. 

The descendants of John and Wil- 
liam Bo3'nton are numerous and widel3" 
scattered, but wherever located they 
show the characteristics of the race from 
which the3' sprang, energy, courage, 
and self-reliance. 

The Bo3"nton Arms are : 




OB, BAR WATS, GTTLES THREE Cl'.ESCENTS PROPER. 
CREST, A LION RAMPANT. 



326 



EEMINISOEN'CES 



CHAPTER LXIV. 

The fiftieth anniversary of American 
Independence was celebrated in New- 
bur yport with unprecedented honors. 
The day, which proved unusually fine, 
was ushered in by the ringing of bells, 
and a salute of twenty-four guns by the 
Newburyport Artiller}-. This was re- 
peated at sunset. At 9 o'clock the mil- 
itar}- companies formed under command 
of Major Ebenezer Bradbury, officer of 
the day. At ten o'clock a procession 
was formed on the mall under the di- 
rection of the following marshals : 

For the military procession, Maj. Ca- 
leb Cushing, Capt. Henry Merrill, Adj. 
Charles Kimball. 

For the civil procession, Maj. Da^id 
Emery, Messrs. William Hervey, Jacob 
W. Pierce, Moses Kent, John Greely, 
Samuel W. Thompson, Thomas Foster. 

The escort consisted of the Ipswich 
and Bradford Light Corps, the Ames- 
bury Artillery, the Newburj- Cavalry, 
and the Newburyport Artillei^' and 
Light Infantry. These two companies, 
handsomely- uniformed, the Artillery 
caps decorated by long waving black 
plumes, and the Light Infantry by 
white, produced a brilliant and impos- 
ing effect. 

Music. 

Major General Benjamin Stickney, 
Brigadier General Solomon Low and 
numerous officers of the Second Brigade 
in full uniform. 

The officiating clerg3'man, the Rev. 
Dr. Andrews. 

The orator, Hon. John Merrill. 

The reader, George Cross, esq. 

The president of the day, Maj. Josh- 
ua Greenleaf. 

The vice presidents, Samuel March, 
esq., Col. Daniel Adams, Capt. Greene 



Sanborn, Stephen W. Marston, esq., 
and Dr. Richard S. Spofford. 

The Committee of Arrangements. 

Officers and meml)ers of the Franklin 
Debating Society, Municipal Authori- 
ties, Clerg}- of the town and \acinity. 
Next marched sixty revolutionary offi- 
cers and soldiers, marshalled by Daniel 
Foster, esq., one of LaFa^-ette's Life 
Guard, displaying the cap, plume and 
sword which he had worn while in ser- 
vice. jNIany wore the continental equip- 
ments ; all a badge of blue ribbon im- 
printed with the magic figures '76. In 
the midst, borne b}- one of their num- 
ber, was a tattered flag of the Revolu- 
tion, which was unfurled at Bunker Hill, 
and there received the shots that rent 
it. This detachment was followed by 
four of the more infirm of their number 
in an open barouche, drawn by a span 
of superb white horses, among whom 
was that noble veteran, the aged Col. 
Edward Wiggles worth. Next c&me the 
National and State officers ; the New- 
buryport Encampment of Knights Tem- 
plars ; King Cyrus' Chapter ; St. John's, 
St. Peter's, St. Mark's Lodges in full 
regalia, bearing banners and badges ;. 
the Newburyport Marine Society ; Mer- 
rimac Humane Society ; the several 
Fire Societies ; Engine and Fire Com- 
panies, each bearing appropriate ban- 
ners. The truckmen in white frocks 
made a fine show ; these were succeed- 
ed b}- a long line of citizens, the pro- 
cession being closed hj the children of 
the several schools in uniform, wearmg 
badges wim appropriate mottoes, under 
the care of their instructors. 

The procession moved through High, 
Federal, Middle, the Market square. 
Green and Pleasant streets, to the 
Pleasant street chui'ch, which had been 
handsomely decorated by the ladies, the 



OF A NON'AGEN'ARIAl^^. 



327 



front galleiy aud side wall pews being 
reserved for them. 

The orchestra, led b}' Mr. Thomas B. 
White, was composed of members of 
the different choirs of the town. 

The exercises in the church com- 
menced by a Voluntary on the organ by 
Edward L. White. The following an- 
them from the Oratorio of Joshua, was 
performed in fine st3'le : 

KECITATIVE. 

"Thou, whose shining throne eternal stands 
A hove the heavens, who holdestin Thy hand 
The fate of worlds ; and in Thy royal rohes 
Adorned with suns aud stars, dost fold the 

globe ; 
Thou art our Sovereign, aud alone to Thee, 
God over all ! Columbia bends the knee ! 
For this to-day, receive, O King of kings. 
The grateful tribute which a nation brings." 

Chorus, 
" ''From every heart let holy incense rise! 
With Hallelujahs, fill the vaulted skies! 
Ye herald angels, sound our song again. 
While we, on earth, repeat a long Amen !" 

The pra^-or which followed, by Rev. 
Dr. Andrews, is spoken of in the New- 
buryport Herald's report as "peculiarly 
beautiful and appropriate, commanding 
attention and admiration for its clear- 
ness of method, felicit}' of allusion, and 
clearness of diction. That his impas- 
sioned eulogy upon our sainted forefjxth- 
ers, and his nervous delineation of the 
trials and sufferings of the heroic men 
who toiled and bled for our sakes, were 
not lost upon his auditors, was evinced 
by their fixed attention, and we could 
perceive more than one tear swell up 
from the heart of the veteran and steal 
down his careworn cheek." 

After the prayer, the following hymn, 
by Hannah F. Gould, set to music bj^ 
T. B. White, was executed with great 
effect : . 

"Who when darkness gathered o'er us, 

Foes and death on every side, 
Clothed in glory, walked before us. 

Leading on, like Israel's guide? 



'Twas Jehovah! He appearing 
Show'd his banner far and wide. 

When the trump of war was sounding, 
'Twas the Lord who took the field! 

He, His people then surrounding. 
Made the strong in battle yield ; 

To our fathers, few in numbers. 
He was armor, strength and shield. 

In the God of armies trusting, 
'Mid their weakness, void of fear, 

Soon they felt their baiids were bursting, 
Saw the dawning light appear; 

Clouds dissolving in the sunbeams. 
Showed the band of freedom near. 

Hark ! we hear to Heaven ascending 

From the voices of the free. 
Hallelujahs sweetly blending 

With the song of liberty. 
Power Almighty! we the vict'ry 

Ever will ascribe to Thee. 

Lo the dove the olive bearing. 
Plants it on Columbia's shore! 

Every breast its branch is wearing, 
Where the buckler shone before! 

Praise the Eternal! he is reigning! 
Praise Him, praise Him evermore!" 

The Declaration of Independence was 
read by Robert Cross, esq., the Herald 
report sa^'s, "with much taste, skill, and 
judgment, and we considered it judi- 
cious in him at that peculiar juncture, 
to add the names of the signers of the 
Declaration." 

The following Original Ode was sung 
to the air of "Scots wha hae." 

"SPIRIT OF '76. 

See the war cloud wildly driven, 
By the pealing thunder riven. 
Shrouding earth and rending heaven, 
Arm for liberty ! 

Let no haughty tyrants vaunt. 
Hearts of steel ! your courage daunt, 
Be his portion woe and want, 
Who would faint or flee ; 

Think your fathers spurned the chain. 
Dared the rough and stormy main. 
Not for glory, not for gain, 
But for rights you have ; 

Think your fathers came not here, 
Rais'd the prayer and dropped the tear, 
Perils met, uublanched by fear 
For a coward slave ; 



328 



REMIN"ISCEN-CES 



Look around you, see their graves! 
S*e above, your banner waves ! 
Hark ! the voice of battle raves, 
Up, and you are free ! 

By the name di-a\vn from your sires, 
By your homes and altar's fires, 
By your hopes and fears, desires, 
iStrike for liberty!" 

The oration by the Hon, John Mer- 
rill, the Herald continues, "was spirit- 
ed and patriotic, imbued with genuine 
republican feeling, evincing correct sen- 
timent, and adorned with laudable pre- 
cepts." 

This was succeeded b}- an Ode, writ- 
ten by a lady. Air— "The Pillar of 
Glory." 

"Bring brightest laurels and let them be 
braided. 
Weave oak and olive! — and ne'er be it told, 
A leaf in the crown of our nation was faded, 
Or lost, when we saw her full fifty years old ! 
Still round thy forehead seen, 
Fresh be the evergreen ! 
Pride of the waters and Queen of the earth ! 
Loud all thy tribes shall sing, 
Rock, hill and forest ring, 
Echoing, Hail ! to the day of thy birth ! 

Our colors adorn all the waves of the ocean. 

Our eagle explores every region of air! 
Long as the pinions of Time keep in motion, 
May they ride in freedom, and valiantly 
there ! 
Penned on the brightest page, 
Down to the latest age, 
The deeds of our sires shall as sunlight de- 
scend, 
May every bosom feel 
Fired by a noble zeal, 
The prize they obtained to enjoy and defcjnd. 

Ye who remaining with locks thin and hoary, 
Your toils in the field to your sons still re- 
count, 
Proudly ye stand 'mid tlie heroes of story, 
As towers o'er the hills our own snow- 
crested mount; 
Loud when the cannon roar'd 
Warm when the blood was pour'd. 
With flocks bounding, thick as the foes fall- 
ing then ; 
See the green valley teem. 
Far where the silver stream 
Shineslike your swords, spread at rest thro' 
the glen. 

Spirit of him who at Yernon is sleeping, 
Bend in thy glory, and smile at our mirth ! 

See the glad millions, the jubilee keeping. 
Which thou dids't procure by thy valor on 
earth ; 



Still hallowed be the day. 

When we have passed away, 
And years over years, shall like floods, roll - 
along I » i 

Then may posterity 

Still be inspii'ed by thee — 
'Freedom and Washington' ever the song!" 

The services were closed by the ben- 
ediction by Rev. Dr. Andrews. 

The dinner, furnished by Messrs. Ty- 
ler & Cook, was served in Market Hall, 
which was finely decorated. "In the 
interstices between the windows, ever- 
greens had been interwoven so as to 
give the hall the appearance of a com- 
plete shrubbery, in which were birds 
confined in cages, who saluted the 
guests with their enlivening notes ; and 
overhead was spread tent cloths, to im- 
part a military air to the festival. At 
the farthest extremity of the hall, over 
the President's table, was extended an 
arch with this inscription : ' 'July 4th, 
1776," supported by pillars inscribed 
with the names of Washington, War- 
ren, Ward, Stark, Varnum, and on the 
other Putnam, Prescott, Brooks, Green, 
LaFayette. 

The president of the day, Maj. Josh- 
ua Greenleaf, presided, assisted by the 
vice presidents at the citizens' tables ; 
at the military, Major-General Stick- 
^ley and Brigadier-General Low did the 
'honors, assisted by Major Ebenezer 
Bradbury, Capt. Daniel E. Stickney, 
Capt. Enoch Pierce and Capt. Dunnels. 
The tables were handsomely laid, and 
the dinner was excellent. Due justice 
having been done the viands, the "feast 
of reason and the flow of soul" com- 
menced. Thirteen .regular toasts hav- 
ing been drank, the president rose and 
volunteered this sentiment — "This na- 
tional jubilee — A grateful country will 
embalm the memory of the patriots and 
heroes, whose blood and treasure se- 
cured to us the blessings we now enjoy." ' 



OF A NON^AGENAEIAN. 



329 



B^^ Col. Daniel Adams, vice presi- 
dent, "Union, libert}', and independ- 
ence. May they be sacred in the 
breast, and defended by the best blood 
of cA'ery American." 

By Dr. R. S. Spofford, vice presi- 
dent, "The sublime principles of Free 
Masonry. An object of terror to the 
tyrants of Europe, but in America, a 
strong pillar in the temple of liberty." 

By Capt. Green Sanborn, vice pres- 
ident, "Our free country. — Ma} slaver}', 
the foul blot, be soon erased from its 
escutcheon." 

By S. W. Marston, esq., "Rufus 
King, Theophilus Parsons, John Quin- 
cy Adams, Charles Jackson and Jacob 
Perkins, our fellow citizens, at all times 
the glory and honor of their country." 

By Gen. Stickney, "State of Massa- 
chusetts, abounding in natural and po- 
Iftical advantages — possessing a sound 
head and vigorous constitution." 

By Hon. John Merrill, orator of the 
day, "The United States — their citizens 
are distinguished for enterprise and in- 
telligence. Although like Themistocles 
they may not be players on the lute, 
yet, like him, they know how to make 
a great city of a small one.',' 

By Samuel March, esq., "The rev- 
erend clergy — may they be to the peo- 
ple of their charge — going before them, 
— a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar 
of fire by night, teachjng them the way 
in which they should go." 

By Gen. S. Low, "The fiftieth anni- 
versary of American Independence — we 
hail it as a pledge of a national feeling 
which still breathes the spirit of '76 into 
the vitals of the true sons of America." 

By Maj. David Emery, "The Fath- 
ers and children of 1776 — may the rich 
blessings they enjoy be multiplied to the 
Fathers and children of 1876." 

42 



By Hon. C. Gushing, "The present 
generation — my best wish for them is, 
that they may but prove wise and brave 
as their fathers, pure and lovely as their 
mothers, and the proud inheritors of the 
free soil, and the free souls, which are 
the boast of America." 

Daniel Foster, esq., rose and spoke 
as follows : ' 'Fellow Soldiers of the Rev- 
olution, — AUow me for a moment to ex- 
press to you my feelings on this joyful 
occasion. We remain among the few 
survivors of the revolutionary army — 
that army which achieved the independ- 
ence we are now assembled to celebrate. 
We enlisted in the good cause in a day 
of darkness, when our beloved country 
was assailed by most powerful foes, 
when her prospects were gloomy and 
discouraging. By the favor of Divine 
Providence, we were safely conducted 
through that long agony of suffering and 
blood. By His goodness we have been 
continued through half a century to see 
this glorious day. We'then only dared 
to hope for the common blessings of 
peace and national independence. But 
our most sanguine expectations have 
been more than realized ; our thirteen 
colonies have become a powerful em- 
pire, enjoying civil liberty and social 
order, and advancing at an astonishing 
rate in the career of improvement and 
national greatness. Let us hope that 
we leave these invaluable privileges in 
good hands, and that our children and 
children's children, by adhering to the 
principles of our immortal Washington, 
will transmit them unimpaired to the 
latest generations." Mr. Foster con- 
cluded with the following: "Our Sons 
— may they ever stand fast to the in- 
tegrity of our national Union, and rely- 
ing on Heaven, be always ready to de- 



330 



remi:n7SCe:n^ces 



fend Avith their blood the high privileges 
bequeathed to tlicm." 

B}' Robert Cross, esq., "Those soci- 
eties and benevolent individuals in all 
countries, who are endeavoring to dis- 
seminate the principles of peace — their 
object ma}' be impracticable ; it is at 
least a noble one, and worth}' of a fair 
experiment. Success to their cause ; 
and at the next jubilee, may posterit}^ 
have occasion to commemorate the uni- 
versal abolition of war." "The above 
toast was received with great enthusi- 
asm by the whole company, and what 
is worthy of remark, more particularly 
by our military brethren." 

B}' Maj. Ebenezer Bradbury, "The 
march of mind — no retrograding, no 
countermarching or obliquity. Direct 
to the front !" 

By William 8. Allen, "Our yeoman- 
r}' ; stout hearts and strong hands — 

'A country's pride, 
When once it's lost can never be supplied.' " 

By Tristram Coflin 3d, "The brave 
Greeks, who a"re struggling for liberty. 
May the}' convince the Turks, by the 
most convincing of all arguments — their 
swords— that they will be free." 

By John Adams, esq., of Andover, 
"May custom and prejudice yield to the 
voice of improvement, and may wise 
innovations meet the appro])ation of 
sage experience." 

By Papt. Richard Levering, "The 
officers and soldiers of the Revolution. 
AVe carry the badges of '76, we liope we 
have the principles in our breasts." 

Mr. Short, "The tree of liberty, wa- 
tered hy the blood of the Revolution — 
may our children suffer no canker 
worms to injure its sacred leaves." 

By Mr. Nathaniel Ladd, "May tiie 
surviving officers and soldiers of the 
revolutionary army ever hold in grate- 



ful remembrance the hospitality of the 
citizens of Newburyport, towards us 
who fought and bled to gain the inde- 
pendence which we are assemljled this 
day to celebrate." 

BylNIr. Nathan Follansbee," The rev- 
olutionary heroes of '7G — while we hon- 
or them as the fathers of our country, 
let us not forget the noble spirit of our 
mothers and grandmothers, who urged 
them on to victory." 

This last toast elicited rounds of ap- 
plause. 

The following revolutionary officers 
and soldiers wei'e at the dinner : Elias 
Pike, Gideon Woodwell, Daniel Flan- 
ders, Stephen Toppan, WilUam Hunt- 
ington, Amos Carlton, Amos Norton, 
Joseph Pike, Richard Short, Samuel 
Follansbee, Jonathan Lambert, Benja- 
min Poor, Timothy Curtis, Oliver 
Goodrich, Timothy Gordon, Nathaniel 
Pearson, David Pearson, Timothy Poor, 
Caleb Kimball, Samuel Balch, Benja- 
min Davis, Aaron Rogers, Joseph 
Floyd, Nathaniel Howard, Moses Short, 
Joseph Stanwood, Elias Cook, John 
Pafferd, John Bootman, David Dole, 
Moses Somerby, Joshua Pettengel, Far- 
num Howe, Jacob Fowler, Samuel Ea- 
ton, jNIoses Pike, Jacob Currier, Na- 
thaniel Ladd, Ezekiel Merrill, Daniel 
Adams, Nathaniel Beck, Jacob Brown, 
Joseph Mootrey, Jacob Hodgkins, 
Thomas Stanwoojjl. 

It will be recollected that both John 
Adams and Thomas Jefferson died with- 
in a few hours of each other on this lif- 
tieth anniversary. This singular occur- 
rence created a great sensation through- 
out the country, and suitable funeral 
ceremonies were held in most of the cities 
and towns of the Union to express the 
national bereavement. On the 14th of 
Juh' a funeral oration was delivered in 



OF A no:n^ageitaiiia^. 



331 



the Pleasant street church by Hon. Ca- 
leb dishing. The church bells were 
tolled from four to five o'clock in the 
afternoon, the public buildings were 
draped in mourning, the flags were at 
half mast. At four o'clock a proces- 
sion of citizens formed on the mall, 
which marched through Green and Pleas- 
ant streets to the church. At Ave 
o'clock the services commenced by a 
Voluntary on the organ! A hymn was 
sung by the choir, and a prayer offered 
by Rev. Dr. Andrews, after which the 
following Ode, by Caleb Cushing, was 
sung :* 

"Forget not the valiant 

VVlio nave honored our story, 
The high and the gallant, 

Whose deeds are our glory ; 
They are gone, but they leave us 

The meed of their merit, 
Nor can ages bereave us 

Of the fame we inherit. 
Then forget not the valiant 

Who have honored our story 
The high and the gallant. 

Whose deeds are our glory. 

The soil that descended 

To our fathers in honor, 
They nobly defended 

From shame and dishonor; 
And when to the slaughter 

Our heroes were given, 
The blood of each martyr 

Rose like incense to heaven. 
Then forget not the valiant 

Who have honored our story. 
The high and the gallant, 

Whose deeds are our glory.' 

The eulogy having been pronounced, 
the exercises closed with the "Dirge of 
Adams and Jetferson." Tune "Judg- 
ment Hyuin." 

"The portals of the gi-ave unfold- 
In dust Columbia's weeping! 

Shrouded in death's dark pall, behold 
The patriot Fathers sleeping! 

While to thi-ir God their souls have risen, 

Still round each cold, deserted prison. 
Sorrow her watch is keeping. 

Those names, whose beams effulgent met. 

Our freedom's charter lighting, 
Within the Book of Life are set. 

In glory there luiiting! 
While thousands here the patriarchs blest, 



Their title to immortal rest, 
The Lamb above was writing. 

'Twas on a great, a hallow'd day. 
The mortal conflict ending, 

The sister spirits dropped their clay- 
To Heaven, their home, ascending; 

They rose, from care and suffering free, 

Above the grave, with victory, 
And angel hosts attending! 

When twoscore years and ten were gone, 

Since glad our nation started 
From Slav'ry's night, to hail the dawn. 

Whence Freedom's rays first darted, 
They saw the rising sun appear; 
But,' ere the evening clouds drew near, 

The hoary saints departed. 

Sages, your name, your virtues still, 
Though from your dust we sever, 

With sacred joy each heart shall fill, 
Your mem'ry perish never! 

The earth one mantle still retains! 

Tho' gone the Sire, the Sou remains ! 
Farewell, great Shades, forever." 



CHAPTER LXV. 

In 1825 a factory for weaving hose 
was established in a building on Brown's 
square. 

In 1827 a schQol for instruction in 
working lace was opened, and for a 
time, of an afternoon, scarcely a young 
girl could be seen without a lace hoop 
or frame in her hand. Very elegant 
veils wrought in frames supported by a 
stand, were worked. For a period this 
lace business continued quite remuner- 
ative. 

This year the Newburyport bridge 
was built ; an elegant structure sus- 
pended from arches by chains, similar 
to the open part of the Essex Merrimac 
bridge. This gave place to the less 
graceful raih'oad bridge in 1840. 

In January, 1824, my Aunt O'Brian's 
adopted daughter, Ehza Bartlett, was 
married in Reading, Penn., with Mr. 
John Heiner Weitzel. The next sum- 



332 



REMEN^ISCEIS'CES 



mer the 3^oung couple visited New Eng- ^ 
land. Mr. Weitzel kept a general fur- 
nishing store in Reading, and he pur- 
chased six pairs of brogans for his store 
of Uncle Joe Little ; these gave such 
satisfaction to the Dutchmen, his cus- 
tomers, that an order was forwarded for 
twent3'-fiye pairs ; this was succeeded b}' 
another for fifty, then a hundred, and 
so on. Thus commenced the Southern 
shoe trade of Georgetown. 

On October 20th, 1826, my Aunt Pea- 
body died in Washington, D. C, and 
the following 2r)th of February, 1827, 
Gen. John Peabody followed her to the 
spiritual world. They had been lovely 
in their lives, and not long divided by 
death. 

Capt. O'Brian having died in 1825, 
his widow returned to New Iilngland. 
As her mother was a confirmed invalid 
she remained with her. In the autumn 
of 182G Mrs. O'Brian was seized with 
paralysis of the brain, from which she 
died in January, 1827. Grandmother 
Little lingered about two years longer, 
when the spirit was released from the 
decrepit body, by which it had so long 
been enthralled. 

In the summer of 1829 I paid my first 
visit to Boston. My brother Joseph re- 
sided on Eaton street. Opposite was 
one of the old colonial mansions, sur- 
rounded by a spacious garden. I was 
entertained by the attractions of the 
city. Amongst the most prominent 
were the New England Museum, and 
the Athenaeum on Pearl street. On a 
visit some two years later, I first saw 
the model of a railroad, with miniature 
locomotive and cars, which was exhib- 
ited in the hall over the Quincy market. 

In the spring of 1831, the Rev. James 
Miltimorc having become too infirm to 
oflflciate in the pastoral office , we took 



a pew in the Pleasant street church. 
Dr. Andrews resigned soon after, and 
the Rev. Thomas B. Fox was ordained 
the 3d of August. 

The advent of this 3'oung man brought 
a new era to the Pleasant street societ3\ 
and to the town. The spacious house 
of worship became crowded. For bet- 
ter accommodation two lines of slips 
took the place of the ancient square 
pews in the front galleries. The beau- 
tiful glass chandelier was taken down 
to give room for one of bronze and gilt, 
with five burners for sperm oil. Simi- 
lar single lamps were suspended 
throughout the edifice, and the pulpit 
was lighted b}' a drop lamp over the 
desk, with Argand burners on either 
side. The old-fashioned organ was re- 
placed by the present fine instrument. 
A flourishing Sunda}' school was estab- 
lished numbering over a hundred pupils, 
under the instruction of a band of 
3'oung men and maidens which the 
youthful pastor had gathered around 
him, and into whom he had infused his 
own eager enthusiasm for truth, pro- 
gress and reform. 

In October the clergyman was united 
in marriage with Miss Fereline Pierce, 
a daughter of the venerable Dr. Pierce 
of Brookhne. This gave a season of 
gaiet}' to the parish, the Sunday- school 
children being invited on the Saturda}' 
afternoon after the lady's arrival in 
Newbmyport, to visit their pastor's res- 
idence, to kiss the bride, and receive a 
piece of bride-cake, an event which I 
am certain they have never forgotten. 
On the afternoon of the Communion 
Sabl)ath a service especially for chil- 
dren was instituted ; thej' occupied the 
singing gallery forming the choir, and 
the front tiers of pews next the pulpit ; 
their pastor standing u^Don the raised 



OP A N^O^NTAGEI^AKIAIT. 



333 



platform beneath it, using the commun- 
ion table for a desk. There he preached 
from month to month a series of dis- 
courses familiarly termed ''Little Ser- 
mons," which attracted many children 
outside of his parish, and which all who 
had the privilege of hearing must re- 
member — words which have oft recurred 
in memory to warn and cheer through 
life's checkered scenes. Small hymn 
books were provided especially for the 
Sunday school ; afterwards a liturg}^ for 
its use was introduced. The librarj^ re- 
ceived a large addition of instructive 
and valuable books. A society library 
was also formed, containing much choice 
reading. A course of ' ' Expositor}' Lec- 
tures" was held on the Wednesday even- 
ings of each week, with an evening lec- 
ture on the first Sunday in the month — 
Communion Sunday. A great interest 
was aroused ; many chikb-en were pre- 
sented for baptism, and man}' persons 
united with the church. Mr. and Mrs. 
Edward Toppan and mj'self were in- 
cluded in the number, and Mr. Toppan 
was chosen to the office of deacon. 

The following summer, lectures on 
Botany were given to the Sundaj' school 
children after the afternoon service ; 
and in the autumn Mr. Fox got up a 
picnic in the woods around the "Devil's 
Den and Basin." The Sunday school 
was conveyed in hacks and stage-coach- 
es ; the society went in their own teams. 
This was the first picnic ever held in 
these parts. That winter, Mr. Fox, to 
the great delight of the participants, in- 
troduced tableaux. The next summer 
flowers were placed upon the table at 
the children's meetings ; after a time a 
small vase adorned the table amidst the 
massive, antique, silver tankards, at the 
observance of the Lord's Supper. Af- 
ter a while this vase of flowers became 



a regular adjunct of the Sabbath wor- 
ship. 

Mr. Fox having been placed upon the 
school committee, a new era commenced 
in our public schools ; and in after years 
he was principally instrumental in the 
formation of the High school for girls 
in Newburj'port, which was the first in 
the state. To the youth of the town he 
was a most faithful friend and cham- 
pion, and his memory will ever be grate- 
full}' cherished. As might be inferred, 
these innovations on old-time usages, 
"these new-fangled doings," caused no 
small stir throughout our quiet, staid, 
strict community. It was a period of 
much religious excitement. "Protract- 
ed," or four days' meetings were the 
vogue. Great revivals were in progress, 
and there was much controversy and 
sectarian bitterness ; Mr. Fox and his 
society received a full share of con- 
tumely ; his "little sermons"and lectures 
were derided, his picnics were termed 
"Fox's Caravans;" the tableaux were 
theatrical enormities, which could not 
be too severely condemned, and the 
flowers in the church were something 
too terrible to contemplate without a 
shudder — "Such Popish folly! Posies 
in the meeten'us ! they might as well 
turn Papists at once." 

Annually in the spring, a service had 
been held at the Orphan Asylum, when 
those unbaptized children who had been 
admitted during the year were conse- 
crated by the rite. If anew clergyman 
had been ordained since the last service, 
it had been customary to invite him to 
officiate. According to custom, it was 
proposed to extend this courtesy to Mr. 
P^ox ; but such a fierce opposition was 
raised, that the members of the Asylum 
Society belonging to the Pleasant street 
congregation, withdrew from the asso- 



334 



REMINISCENCES 



ciatioii, leaving the opposition to con- 
duct matters to their satisfaction. 
Funds in consequence became low, and 
the Asylum was eventuall}- discontin- 
ued. Soon after, the Society for Aged 
Females was instituted. 

Dr. Spring died in March, 1819, and 
the Rev. Lutlier F. Dimmick was or- 
dained over tlie societ}' of the North 
church the next December. The Rev. 
John Charles March was ordained over 
the Belleville society in March, 1832. 
The Rev. James Miltimore died in 
March, 1836, at the venerable age of 
81 years. Parson Miltimore was an af- 
fable and courteous gentleman, a fine 
writer, and a most devoted pastor and 
friend. 

Dr. Elijah Parish died Oct. 15th, 
1825, in his 64th 3"ear. Thus was lost 
to the New England church one of its 
most distinguished members ; but the 
fervent eloquence and fiery zeal of the 
great Federalist divine is still a cher- 
ished memory, and his quick wit and 
fine social qualities will remain as pleas- 
ant reminiscences to be transmitted to 
posterity. 

At this time. Dr. Lyman Beecherwas 
at the zenith of his fame. Upon his re- 
moval to Boston, my brother, Joseph 
L. Smith, became his parishioner ; but 
not being fully satisfied with the preach- 
ing of the celebrated clergyman, tln-ough 
Dr. Shurtletf, his family physician, he 
became a reader of the works of Eman- 
uel Swedenborg. Though not inclined 
to literary pursuits, in an incredibly 
short time he became thoroughly ac- 
quainted with the voluminous writings 
of the Swedish seer, and an enthusiastic 
receiver of his doctrine. 

The New Jerusalem church in Boston 
was then in its infanc}', comprising 
scarcel}' more than a dozen communi- 



cants. Mr. Smith became one of the 
most zealous and energetic of the soci- 
ety, devoting both his purse and his apt 
business talents to its service. This in- 
. terest never flagged until his decease, 
which took place at the early age of 
forty-three. 

Father, mother, sister and liusl)and 
have also gone ; — of the former house- 
hold l)and, my brother James alone re- 
mains. 

The only persons still living on High 
street, who lesided there during my 
earh^ married life, are Capt. and Mrs. 
Joshua Pillsbury, Mr. and Mrs. Rich- 
ard Ordway, and Capt. Davjd Wood. 

That Centennial of our Independence 
which loomed so dimh' in the far future 
when my husband gave his sentiment 
at the Fiftieth Anniversary, I have 
passed. I have lived to ride upon rail- 
roads, and receive messages by the 
electric wires ; to have friends cross the 
ocean in steamships ; to send messages 
back by the sub-marine cable ; the tele- - 
phone is in operation in several lines 
through our streets, and the phonograph 
is on exhibition in our public halls.. 

The first anthracite coal fire I ever 
saw was in an open grate in my broth- 
er's house, in Boston, about 1830. It 
was regarded with curiosity ; and the 
idea of using such material for fuel elic- 
ited considerable derision in the com- 
munitv. Now, a wood fire is the curi- 
osit}-. Kerosene and gas illuminate 
our dwellings in lieu of candles and 
fish or whale oil. The horse cars run 
through our streets, and steamboats 
navigate our river. Thougli our dwell- 
ings on the whole may not be as spa- 
cious and imposing as formerly, they 
are much more convenient and comfort- 
able ; the same may be said of the 
churches, public edifices, and stores. 



or A non^agen"Aeia:n'. 



3^5 



Every department of life has been im- 
proved by science, art, and ingenuity. 
Though our schools may not exhibit the 
superiority commensurate with the in- 
creased expense, no one would wish to 
renew the ancient regime, or return to 
the former incommodious school-houses, 
with their huge fireplaces and sizzling 
green logs. Though there is more lax- 
ity on the Sabbath, and fine organs and 
choirs are requisite concomitants of re- 
ligious service, still, considering the in- 
crease and change in our population, I 
see no decrease in true Christianity ; on 
the contrary', we are before our fathers 
in the truest interpretation of neighbor- 
1}^ love and charity. Look at our insti- 
tutions for the amelioration of the race ; 
at the various societies for spiritual and 
moral advancement ; if there is not as 
much of the letter there is more of the 
spirit of the Divine law. Much is said 
of the deterioration of society ; perhaps 
it would be well to teach our children a 
little of the old-time courtesy, and as 
well to practise it somewhat more our- 
selves ; buc in that kindly social inter- 
est which constitutes true politeness, 
we are not deficient, and many of the 
every-da\' customs of our fathers would 
not be tolerated for a moment. Our 
young ladies would not so smilingly re- 
ceive a band of young men reeling from 
the dining to the drawing-room, with 
the slightlj- de[)recating remark that, 
"they were only a little over-dinnerish, 
and not to be minded." And the boys' 
battle-cry of "up-alongers and down- 
alongers, rush 'em, rush 'em !" has long 
since ceased. Another feature in the 
former social system would not now be 
permitted ; I refer to the treatment often 
received by the little bound girls in fam- 
ilies. I have often seen such claildren 
going to the pump in mid-winter, clad 



only in a homespun short gown and 
petticoat, with slipshod shoes, disclos- 
ing huge holes in the heels of their 
stockings, and an old hood tied over 
their tangled hair. Domestic servitude 
and labor of all kinds commands much 
more respect and regard for its rights 
and comfort than it did a hundred 3'ears 
ago. We hear much complaint of hard 
times and low wages. But what would 
our laborers think of working for fifty 
cents a day, or our domestics at receiv- 
ing only two shillings and sixpence a 
week, with cotton cloth at fifty cents, 
and calico a dollar per yard ! The best 
of mechanics received not more than a 
dollar a da^- ; man}', for a time, could 
not obtain work even at a lower price. 

In physical knowledge and culture 
there is also a marked change. The 
laws of health are better understood and 
applied. Asa rule our houses are kept 
neater, all are warm in winter, and in 
every way better prepared for health 
and comfort through the year. One 
would now be considered insane to dress 
through the cold season, as was the 
mode in my girlhood. Generally there 
are truer views of life amongst the 
youth in our conimunit}', less false 
pride, and more industrj- amongst the 
higher classes. Our young men form 
Christian Associations and similar so- 
cieties ; our young ladies emplo^y their 
leisure in teaching in Sunday schools 
and week day sewing schools for poor 
children, taxing their skill and ingenuity 
on articles for charity fairs, while the}^ 
visit the poor, sick and infirm, carrying 
not onh' solid aid, but the light of their 
bright, sympathetic faces. We see lit- 
tle of the "Lydia Languish," the sickly, 
sentimental, mincing style, which held 
fashionable ascendency for a period. 

Art has taken a much higher rank 



336 



EEMTNTSCEIS ES 



than of 3-ore ; though the public taste 
has not quite risen to a perfect standard, 
it has greatly improved. Instead of 
onh' three or four pianos in the town, 
scarceh' a dwelling of any pretension 
is without an instrument of some kind ; 
even in the humblest abode the strains 
of a cabinet organ are often heard, ac- 
companied by the cultivated voice of a 
sweet singer. 

Our public librar}' and reading room 
furnish the best of books ; these, with 
magazines and periodicals, and the li- 



braries attached to the Sabbath schools, 
preclude*tha!t literar}^ hunger which I 
often experienced in my youthful days. 
Though there is 3-et room for improve- 
ment, on the whole, the world is stead- 
ih' advancing in material and spiritual 
interests^ Let every one "press towards 
the marlyfor the prize of the high call- 
ing of Qod in Christ Jesus." 

have been j^oung, and now am 
old, yet have I not seen the righteous 
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." 






^ -^-^i^^:- 



91)- 4 












,«• ^^^^j.'JT^ 



^°-.^, 



*^... 



^-^ ^-^^ 



'•S' 


«. 






-■ 






% 


0< 




.^-^ 


■=< 



-S 



-i- 









.0' 



-^ A^ 



,0 



> 



0' - 






1.^ o. 






>. 



0^^ ^o. 






rr 



.0' 



-^-0^ 



4 <^v^ 



',V 



^. 



'>t-. 


> 


o 




x^- 


> 


A 




,. • , ' 












.-^■' > ' ■■ 




A 




■S^ " 




.- -^^ 





,'1'', --li' <J^ -b 






^, * , ^ ^ ^ 



A 



^ 



^o 



.-?^^ 



'^_ 



^0 v-, 









* £1 M ^U 



-1- 












0' 



.A 






.-tV 



'^. 



.o^ 






to 
^ . ^ ■ * * O 



,^^ 



.,Aq. 



.0 -r, 



,0' 






s"'^^^ 



<. 



<>> 



vv 









/ 


^P 










\ ■ 




' 


* 






-^ 








, c 


(, *- 


' * o 




^ 




(. 




;_ ' o 




■•*- 


0^ 






^'^ 


^^ 


..^-^ 


°.. 




^« 


c^^ . 


^ 



.■\^ 



ST. 



'J- 



AUGUSTINE 






^0 -7-, 



'J^^ 



> 



%' 



^ 



■^■ 









,-^^ 



4 o 



>' 



O 












^^^^ 



.^,^.% 



'> 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



iliillCllljllll 







ill 





005 811254 9 ^ 




